Book 25 - The Devil And Dean Winchester
by GailDunn2
Summary: The time of Lucifer is drawing to a close, but a major sacrifice will be required to remove him from the Earth. Will our team be able to let go of their heart in order to make that happen?
1. Dialogue With The Devil

Chapter 1 - Dialogue With The Devil

Cas couldn't wait any longer. "How long ago did Gail leave?" he asked the room in general. "Shouldn't she be back by now?"

"Has to be at least 20 minutes ago," Dean replied. He looked at Frank for confirmation.

Frank shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Twenty minutes!" Cas exclaimed. "Has it really been that long?" He sent her a message on their frequency. No response. He tried again. Nothing. "I'm going over there," he announced. He popped out immediately as his friends looked at each other, bemused. Once Cas had decided to do something, he didn't waste a lot of time on chit-chat.

Cas popped into the house, calling Gail's name, but she didn't answer. He checked the kitchen, the dining room, and the living room. No Gail. Then he popped into their bedroom. She wasn't there either, although there were signs that she had been. The sweater she'd been wearing was on the bed, and Ralph the stuffed penguin was now sitting on the bed, propped up against the pillows. He clearly hadn't moved there himself, Cas thought with grim humour, so Gail must have picked him up and placed him there.

"I really wish you could talk, Ralph," Cas said to the stuffed penguin. "Where is she?"

Then he heard the same noise as Gail had heard, and Cas went to investigate. He opened the door to the porch, and his heart stopped. There was a note pinned to it, impaled to the door with an Angel blade. And the blade was Gail's.

"Soooo. Happy to be back in the loving bosom of your family? Or do you miss the killing, and the torture? From what I hear, you were getting very good at it."

They were in the library at Lucifer's mansion. Lucifer was standing at the bar fixing drinks, and his back was to her. Gail was sitting in one of the overstuffed armchairs beside the bookshelves. She wasn't bound or cuffed, or restrained in any way. It was almost like he was daring her to try to escape. She'd tried just popping out, of course, but no dice. And he'd taken her blade from her back at the house and used it to pin a note to the door. Cas must be flipping out by now.

She looked around for anything she could use as a weapon, but she couldn't see anything. Unless she were to just grab one of the heavier-looking books and conk him on the head with it, or something. Yeah, right. He was the Devil, and she was going to take him out with a book? Was there a Bible around here somewhere? Maybe the irony would give him a good laugh before he tore her limb from limb.

"You won't find any weapons here," Lucifer said cheerfully. "Violence is so...violent, don't you think? I'm interested in talking to the Angel Gail right now, the woman with the soft heart and a quick quip. Let's leave the bloodthirsty robot in Europe, where she belongs."

He brought the drinks over to where she sat. He offered one to her, but she didn't take it. He shrugged and placed it on the table next to her. Then he sat down in the armchair facing her and took a sip of his own drink.

"So how is everyone?" Lucifer asked in a conversational tone. "Frank still aging? Rob still being a little snot? Have you and Dean made up yet? And how is your Holy husband? Has he baptized you in the blood of the Lamb yet? No, wait; that'll be my job. Though I daresay the two of you might have exchanged a few other bodily fluids when you got back from Africa. Totally understandable. I mean, it had been over a year, and I know what you two are like. I'm surprised you're even out of bed now. Oh, but I suppose you've got your priorities. Only one more little, itty-bitty item to get, and then I'm toast. Right, Gail? It's too bad you don't know what that item is, or where it is. Not that that's ever stopped the God Squad before."

Her heart started to beat faster. Did Lucifer know about Cas's visit to the Netherworld?

Lucifer sat back in his chair, taking another sip of his drink. "I have no idea what to do with you anymore," he said, gazing steadily at her. "I've tried to charm you, I've bullied you, and I've tortured you. And still, you've defied me. I push, you push back. I kill a bunch of humans, you kill a bunch of my men. I don't know whether to screw you or kill you."

"Then why don't you just give up on me, and let me go?" she said, trying to keep her tone calm.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Really, Gail? I expected something more original from you than that old movie cliche."

She nodded. "Fair enough. Then why don't you come back with 'I should have killed you when I had the chance', and then we'll put the cliche-fest aside?"

"Now we're getting somewhere," he said, smiling. "I think I like you best when you're sassy. As long as you're not TOO sassy. There's a fine line, you know."

"Not that you would know anything about fine lines," she retorted. "You crossed the line so long ago you can't even see it in the rearview mirror."

Lucifer's smile widened. "Hey, I'm the Devil. I have a rep to maintain, you know. What's YOUR excuse?"

Gail's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Young guy named Corey. Ring a bell?" he shot back.

She shrugged. "It was war. I did what I needed to do. Besides, we let him go."

"Yeah, and he offed himself, to use the vernacular," Lucifer told her.

Gail was taken aback for a moment, but then she shrugged. "That's unfortunate," she responded. "I guess he had a guilty conscience."

"He was an innocent," Lucifer said offhandedly. "A wanna-be. He had no idea what it's like to play with the big boys. Just like you used to be, before I toughened you up." He took another sip. "Castiel has no idea how resentful you are, does he?"

Gail sighed. "NOW what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you haven't forgiven him for Africa," Lucifer replied, his gaze holding steady. "He thinks you have, but deep down, you know you haven't. Not that I can blame you. What a selfish bastard he is. Living like a king, having all of his needs catered to, while you were wading in dirt and blood. It was Egypt all over again, wasn't it? He was living in the royal palace, and you were dealing with the plagues. Notice a pattern?"

Gail rolled her eyes. If he was trying to sow the seeds of discord between her and Cas, he'd have to try a lot harder than that. Although she had to admit that there was some truth to what he was saying. A small part of her DID still resent it. But it was all over now, they were back together, and things would be better going forward. Assuming she survived this little visit with the Devil, of course.

"As far as my brother goes, a little grey is a very distinguished look for him, I think," she said to Lucifer with a half-shrug, settling back in her chair. Hey, if he wanted to pretend to be civilized, so could she. "Rob is a teenager now, going through the usual teenage things. Dean and I are just fine. And Cas and I love each other very much. In fact, our marriage has never been stronger. So, nice try. You must be losing your touch."

"So it's denial, is it? OK, suit yourself." Lucifer pointed to her untouched drink. "Have a snort, Gail. I know you like to have a drink or three once in a while. Just one of your many non-Angelic character traits, the ones that endear you to me. I wonder where that side of you comes from? Anyway, eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow, you may die."

"Then why not avoid the Christmas rush and just kill me now?" she asked him sarcastically.

"Now what fun would that be?" Lucifer responded. "Come on, Sarah, drink up. I know you like to have a good time."

"Yes, I do, when I'm in better company," she said tartly.

"See, that? Right there? That's the line I'm talking about," Lucifer said, frowning.

"Sorry/not sorry," Gail replied. "And as for the drink, I'm not too thirsty right now. Maybe you want to have it. I'm sure there wouldn't be anything in it, like a drug or anything, would there?"

"You insult me, Gail," Lucifer said, but his eyes flashed red for a moment. "Here I am, just trying to be a good host..." He reached out and snatched her drink from the table. Then he looked at it for a moment. "Fine. If you think you're too good to have a drink with me, we'll just have to knock you down a peg or two," Lucifer said, raising his voice. He snapped his fingers, and the double doors leading into the library from the hallway flew open. Two Demons came into the room.

"Make sure our guest is as comfortable as can be," Lucifer told the Demons. "Treat her with all the respect she deserves. She's a VIP. It's not every day that an Original Angel comes to stay with us."

One of the Demons looked at Gail, puzzled. "An Original Angel?! The only woman Original I know of is - "

Lucifer grinned. "Yup. Meet Gail. She's Castiel's wife. She'll be gracing us with her presence for a while. See what I did there? Who knows, maybe her husband will drop by, for a special guest appearance. If we treat his wife in the manner she deserves, I'm pretty sure we can expect to see him. Eventually."

The Demons grabbed Gail. She thought about fighting back, but really, what would be the point? She had no weapon, and even if she could have used her golden beams to knock Lucifer's minions around, Lucifer could still obliterate her with a wave of his pinky finger. No, it was best to use her brain, instead of trying futilely to use her powers right now. If he'd intended to kill her outright, he would have already done it. He was using her as bait, to lure Castiel. But it sounded as if he wanted to play with them a little, first. If she kept her eyes and ears open, she could probably figure out what to do. The key was not to panic, she told herself, as the Demons hustled her out of the room.

Lucifer looked down at the drink he still held in his hand. Then he snapped his fingers again, and the glass disappeared. Damn. Well, you could lead a whore to water, but you couldn't make her drink, he supposed. Then he grinned. Double damn. That had been a really good one. The problem was, there was nobody here to hear it. His ranks had gotten very thin. Mark was dead, Jason had flitted off somewhere, and Paul was still in Europe, at last report. Although why Lucifer was bothering to keep him there was a mystery even to himself. The war was over. The death squads were done. He would barely be able to scrape up enough minions to sit a jury right now.

OK, so she wouldn't drink the Kool-Aid willingly. Truth be told, if she had, Lucifer would have lost a lot of respect for her. And he actually had come to respect her quite a bit, despite how he came across. She held her own with all of those Alpha men in her circle, and by all accounts, she usually came out on top. She had killed the crap out of untold numbers of his men, and she refused to show her fear of him. She still thought she could outsmart him. Maybe he would even let her. But there would be plenty of time to decide that later. The game was just beginning.

Cas was pacing the floor of the library in the bunker. What were they going to do? How was he going to find her this time?

"He's taunting me," he said through clenched teeth. "The note is deliberately vague. If he's holding her hostage, why does he not just say so, and state his terms?"

Sam was holding the note in his hand now. Cas had unpinned it from the door, pocketing Gail's blade, and then he had frantically winked himself back to the bunker after having read the note. It hadn't taken long; the note was very succinct.

Sam read the note aloud: "'If you want to find Narnia, look for a place you would feel at home'." His brow furrowed. "Not much to go on."

"I assume he's talking about you, Cas," Dean chipped in. "Where YOU would feel at home."

Cas could barely breathe. Where WOULD he feel at home? Wherever Gail was, that's where. He never should have let her go by herself. But their house was as well-protected as it could be. Yes, the candlesticks were here at the bunker, but that wouldn't have mattered, if she had been in the house. She had to have stepped outside. But in any event, it didn't really matter how Lucifer had gotten her, only that he had.

"Heaven?" Chuck speculated out loud.

"A church, somewhere?" Bobby chipped in.

Cas frowned. He knew they were all trying to help, but: "He's being deliberately ambiguous, just to torment me!" he shouted.

Frank was livid. "What the hell is he trying to pull, Cas? Why would he take her now?"

"Just to screw with us," Sam said angrily. "It's what he does."

"He knows we're close, now," Cas mused aloud. Had Lucifer somehow found out about Cas's visit to the Netherworld? My God; Gail knew what the last item was, and she knew where it was. Well, the city it was in, at least. What if Lucifer tortured her for the information? "We have to find Narnia, and we have to find it now," he said fretfully.

They all thought about it. How the hell were they supposed to figure out where Lucifer's compound was from a vague clue like that?

Suddenly, Dean said: "Paul."

Everyone's heads turned to look at him. Cas could have kicked himself. Of course Paul would know where the compound was. But the question was, where was Paul?

The Demons took Gail to a windowless room in the basement of the mansion. There was a sleeping bag and a thin pillow laying on the floor, but that was it. No other furniture. Nothing that she could use to fashion into a weapon.

"You're lucky the Boss is feeling magnanimous today," one of her captors said. "Originally, he was planning to hang you from the ceiling."

"'Magnanimous'?" Gail repeated with a smirk. "That's a pretty big word for a Demon."

"You just keep on smiling," he said to her. "Your husband tortured the crap out of me years ago, before he killed me. How I would love to return the favour."

They slammed the door shut on her, and she heard it lock. She'd seen the sigil painted on the outside of the door, and there were some symbols inside on the walls, too. She tried to wink out anyway, but she couldn't, of course.

Gail crossed over to where the sleeping bag was. She sat down on it, then started to think.

A week later, things remained status quo. Every day, Lucifer's minions would come and get Gail, bringing her upstairs to the library. And every day, Lucifer would be sitting there in his armchair, having a drink. His flunkies would sit her down in the chair opposite, and Lucifer's soliloquy would begin. How Castiel didn't really care about her, or about any of them. Lucifer had known his Brother for centuries; she had only known Castiel a few short years. Gail only thought she knew her husband, but she was wrong. She should ask Jason sometime about the shenanigans he and Castiel pulled during the Angel wars. Then she might look at him a little differently.

"Where IS Jason, anyway?" Gail had asked Lucifer. "Why isn't he with you? Did he get a better offer?"

Lucifer frowned. He'd like to know that, too. Jason had his nerve, just walking away from the game like that. Nobody walked out on Lucifer. The trouble was, Lucifer had no idea where the vampire was. Absolutely no idea. He should be able to see him. Why couldn't he see him?

"Why? Are you that anxious to feel his teeth in your neck again?" Lucifer sneered. "Is Castiel not doing it for you any more in that department? My offer still stands. Just so you know."

Gail kept herself calm. If he was going to do that to her, wouldn't he have done it by now? He'd have to kill her first, of course, but that wouldn't have stopped him from trying, she was sure.

Every day they would spar like that, and every day he would have a drink poured for her that she would refuse. Then, once she had pissed him off enough, he would have her thrown back into her cell, and the process would be repeated.

A few days later, he'd had it. He picked up the drink she had refused yet again and hurled the glass against the wall, shattering it. "You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met!" he shouted. "No wonder nobody wants you around!"

"I've heard this spiel from you before," Gail said, rolling her eyes. "Flip the record over, will you? Let's see: my parents didn't want me. Waaah, waaah. Castiel doesn't love me. Boo hoo. If you wanted me to fall for that old chestnut, you shouldn't have sent those death squads out my way. It was hell on wheels, if you'll pardon the expression, but this last year toughened me up like you wouldn't believe. You have no idea. Ask Dean, he'll tell you. I'm a bitch, now."

Lucifer was seething. His hands were opening and closing as he tried to decide if he should just haul off and smack her one. This was unbelievable. She wasn't one bit scared of him, or if she was, she was hiding it like a champ.

"I will take apart everyone you love, starting with your husband," Lucifer said, leaning forward and pointing his finger at her.

For a second, the urge to bite his finger clean off was so strong she was almost dizzy with it. This was ridiculous. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to prove, but I will never, I repeat, never, sit here and have a drink with you," she hissed at him. "So you can sit here in someone else's home acting all Masterpiece Theatre, but we all know who and what you truly are."

Lucifer had looked at her with red, glowing eyes, and for a moment, Gail was sure that he was going to reach out a little further and just snap her neck like a twig. But instead, he bellowed for his minions to come and take her away again.

Lucifer sat down at the library desk, and once he'd stopped shaking enough to write in a steady hand, Lucifer wrote another note for Castiel. Then he called for another couple of his Demons to come and deliver the note to the bunker.

"You won't be able to get near the place but put the note on a rock and heave it at the door, as hard as you can," Lucifer instructed them. "The door is metal. If you hit it hard enough, they'll hear it."

The Demons looked at each other uncertainly. "Will Castiel be there?" one of them asked him.

"I'm counting on it," Lucifer said. "The note's for him." He stared at the men. "Don't tell me: Castiel killed you, or tortured you, or both. He's a scary guy. He gave me a bo-bo. Waaah, waaah. Well, sack up. Geez. His wife's got more balls than any of you."

They took the note from him without another word, and then they popped over to the back yard of the bunker.

"Give it here," one of the Demons said to his companion. He had found a good-sized rock and was taking the rubber bands out of his pocket. "I was a pretty good pitcher on my college team."

"You can have it," the other Demon said. "I'm outta here."

"What do you mean?" the first Demon said.

"What I said. Lucifer's crazy, and I'm not sticking around to see what'll happen when Castiel shows up at the compound," his companion said. "I'd rather take my chances with Crowley. I'd do the same, if I were you." Then, he disappeared.

The first Demon shrugged. Then he pegged the rock he was holding at the bunker door, as hard as he could, hearing the satisfying CLANG! sound, and the subsequent echo. That would probably have been about 92 on the radar gun. Not bad, for being so out of practice.

But he made sure that he was gone by the time the bunker door opened.

Sam looked around. That had been odd. Then he looked down and saw the rock with the note.

"'They're pretty, and sweet-smelling'," he read the note aloud to everyone gathered in the library area, "'and I'm not just talking about your wife. Although she is, too.'"

Cas rushed over to Sam, grabbing the piece of paper from his friend's hand. Cas's jaw was clenched. If Lucifer was trying to drive him crazy, this was exactly the way to do it. Another ambiguous clue, coupled with the nauseating image of Lucifer being close enough to Gail to smell her. Cas was going to tear Lucifer apart when he found him.

"'Pretty, and sweet-smelling'," Sam said. "Flowers. Gotta be flowers."

"OK, so put that together with the first clue," Frank said eagerly. "Flowers, and a place Cas would feel at home. How about that Secret Garden place you guys like to go to in Vegas? That place got a lot of flowers?"

Cas was startled for a moment. Could it be? But then, his face fell. No. There had been a lot of ferns and palm trees there, but he couldn't recall any flowers. Still, it had been a good idea, and he told Frank so now.

"Just to be on the safe side, I'll pop over there for a moment," Cas said, clapping Frank on the shoulder. He looked at Gail's brother with compassion. This was eating him alive too, Cas knew. Everyone in the bunker was working overtime, trying to brainstorm ideas. This almost felt like the time she had been Sarah, but it felt different, too. This time, Cas knew that Lucifer had her, and the Devil was taunting him with these so-called clues. Baiting him. And Cas would very happily take the bait. Soon, Lucifer would get carried away with his own hubris, and he would make a mistake. But Cas wasn't going to wait that long. He just couldn't. He couldn't afford to take that chance. When a wild animal felt cornered, it tended to lash out.

Cas popped out of the bunker and into the Secret Garden. He and Gail had been there enough times for him to know that there was a spot beside the panthers' cage where he could materialize without being seen. He walked around the Garden, quickly but casually, so as not to call attention to himself. But it was no use. There were no flowers here, and no Gail. They were looking for a compound. Still, he'd had to look.

Cas returned to the bunker just long enough to advise everyone that the Secret Garden had been a dead end. "But please, keep brainstorming, everyone," he said. "Any idea, no matter how far-fetched it may seem. Please. We have to keep trying." Cas's throat closed up, and Dean threw him a sympathetic glance.

"Isn't there a way to track down Paul?" Frank said, frustrated. "Don't you guys have some kind of a spidey-sense, or something? Kevin always knew that there were Demons nearby, even before we saw them."

"Yes, but they have to be nearby," Cas responded. "The last we saw of Paul, he was in Africa. Then, he'd said he was going to have to go back to Europe."

"He's still technically a Demon, ain't he?" Bobby piped up.

"Yes, Bobby," Cas answered patiently.

"Then wouldn't Crowley be able to find him?" Bobby asked.

Cas's head snapped up. Of course. Why hadn't he thought of that? Because he was crazy with worry, that was why. "I'll be right back," he said tersely.

He winked himself over to the crossroads, calling Crowley's name.

"You bellowed?" his Brother said dryly. "You know, I do believe my feelings are hurt. I was going to send your Missus a lovely Thank You note for the completely non-denominational gift she gave me over a year ago, but then you both left the grid."

"Cut the crap," Cas barked. "You know very well where we were, and what we were doing. Your friend Lucifer has abducted Gail, and you're going to tell me where his compound is, and you're going to tell me now."

"Believe it or not, if I knew where it was, I would tell you," Crowley said calmly. "I owe all of you a debt of gratitude. Hell has been completely revitalized. You've sent me so many souls over the past year I'm thinking of building an annex. Not to mention all of the Demons who have left Lucifer's employ to return to my Kingdom. I guess that dental plan of his just wasn't cutting it."

"So you truly don't know where he is?" Castiel asked, his shoulders slumping. He knew his Brother very well, and he could tell that in this particular instance, Crowley had nothing to hide.

"No, I don't," Crowley stated. "And I'll tell you something else: If you do flush him out, and you want to finish him, I'm willing to help you do it."

Cas regarded him suspiciously. "Why the change of heart?"

Crowley smirked. "Assuming I had one, of course. We need things back the way they were, Cas. Heaven and Hell. God, and me. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Lucifer is a dangerous lunatic. Everyone knows that."

Castiel pursed his lips. "Can you locate Paul for me?" he asked Crowley. "He might be my only way to find Lucifer."

Crowley nodded. "All right, Castiel. I'll send out the eye. We've got to get her back. I'm already looking forward to my completely non-denominational chocolate bunny."

Cas gave him a double-take. Crowley was smiling now, instead of smirking, as he usually was. Cas started to speak, but his Brother held up his hand. A moment later, Crowley said, "Got him. He's not where he's supposed to be, though."

"How do you know where he's supposed to be?" Cas asked suspiciously.

"Calm down, Castiel," Crowley told his Brother. "He's supposed to be in Europe. I know that because there were a handful of Demons there, supposedly under his command, that are with me, now. They parted ways just after Christmas. He's in Africa, starring in a revival of A Raisin In The Sun. But actually, in this instance, they're all raisins, I suppose." Crowley put a hand to his mouth, but he was smirking again. "Whoops. Don't tell him I said that."

Cas was staring at Crowley incredulously. Suddenly, the King of Hell had become Frank, with the quips and the one-liners. What had gotten into him?

But Castiel would concern himself with that another time. He had the information he needed. "I'll be in touch," Cas said curtly, and then he winked himself away.

"I need to know where Lucifer's compound is," Cas said without preliminary. He'd winked himself over to the village where they'd spent Christmas, and sure enough, there was Paul, helping the townspeople to fix the church's roof. The sight would have done Castiel's heart good if he wasn't so frantic about Gail.

"Yissa!" a few of the men exclaimed, and those who were on the ground prostrated themselves, while those men who were up on the roof simply bowed low.

"Hello, Castiel," Paul said. He paused, wiping his brow. Then he descended the ladder and came down where the Angel stood. "I believe that's the customary greeting. Now, try it back."

"He's got Gail," Cas said, and Paul's smile disappeared. "Oh, no," he said. "No, Cas."

"Where's the compound, Paul?" Cas repeated.

"I don't know," Paul replied.

Cas gritted his teeth. "What do you mean, you don't know? You were there!"

"I know, but he modified my memory too, the last time I was there," Paul said anxiously. "Now, I can't recall. All I can think of is 'Narnia'."

Cas let out a frustrated breath. This was unbelievable. Everyone had been there, yet no one knew where it was. "Let me search your mind," he said desperately. "Maybe I can pick up a clue. Something. Anything."

"OK, Castiel. Search away," Paul said. He was tempted to make a wisecrack, but then he refrained. Now was not the time. Lucifer had Gail, and Lucifer was out of his damn mind. That was why Paul had deserted his post. He was no fool. Lucifer was a shoot-the-messenger kind of dude.

Cas put his fingers on Paul's forehead as the townspeople looked on, awestruck. Castiel closed his eyes, concentrating. Narnia. Narnia. Damn it! But then, inexplicably, he got the image of a large plate of noodles. Narnia. Noodles. Noodles?

He took his hand away from Paul's head. "Why are you thinking about noodles?" Cas barked.

Paul's forehead wrinkled. "Noodles? Why would I be thinking about noodles? I don't eat!"

"I don't know, but you are," Cas shot back. "I saw a big plate of spaghetti, a loaf of bread, and some wine."

"That used to be my favourite, when I was a human," Paul replied thoughtfully. "There's nothing better than a big ol' pasta dinner, when you're starving. Oh, great. Now I'm hungry."

"A pasta dinner?!" Cas repeated. He was completely confused now. Italy, maybe? Everyone who'd been around for centuries knew that pasta wasn't really Italian, but now, his mind was free-associating. Somewhere that he would feel at home, with flowers, and pasta. "Our wedding?" he said softly. Or, the cathedral, maybe? No, that was ridiculous. The reception hall? The hotel? The restaurant where they'd found the Heaven Tablet? But, what would any of that have to do with Lucifer's compound? No. He was sure that was all a red herring. He was looking for zebras.

Cas had been muttering all of this aloud, and Paul had been looking at him, waiting for him to finish. "Zebras?!" Paul exclaimed now. "Well, you ARE in Africa. But what the hell are you talking about, Castiel?"

"I don't know," Cas said despairingly. "That's just it. I don't know."

"Is there anything we can do for you, Yissa?" one of the townsmen asked him. They'd all seen the distraught expression on his face. "Do you need us to take up arms again?"

"No," Cas said sadly. "No." He put his hand on the man's arm. "Thank you." He looked at Paul. "I'll be in touch if there's anything else."

"I still have your number," Paul told him. "I'll give a call, if I remember anything."

Cas nodded. Then he winked himself away, as the townspeople all gathered around the farmer whose arm he had touched. One by one, they all touched the man's arm too, murmuring something in their own language. Paul looked on, bemused. Boy, did he have a lot of jokes running through his head right now. But he'd better not make any smart remarks. The people were letting him help because he was another strong back and pair of arms, but they still looked at him with wary suspicion. It was only the fact that Castiel had advised them that Paul was a friend that was keeping him alive at the moment. But that was OK. Paul was doing this for himself as much as he was doing it for these people. The road signs on the path to redemption were pretty clear at this point.

He said a silent prayer for Gail, and then climbed back up on the roof.

This was beyond ridiculous now. If there was anything that Gail had learned in the past couple of years, it was the truth of the old adage: the Good Lord helps those who help themselves. She was done waiting. The longer she was here, the more potential there was for something really bad to happen.

The Demons who escorted her to her cell every day had gotten lax by now, and she had taken to acting very docile and defeated when they came to collect her. One of them was ahead of her, unlocking the door of her cell with his back to her, and the other one was behind her, but not immediately behind her. And neither of them had a hand on her at the moment.

Gail shoved the Demon in front into the door, and his head hit on the metal. Then he slumped to the floor. She dove for his belt, where he had the Angel blade. She pulled it out and whirled around. The other Demon was rushing her, and she slashed at him with the blade. He stepped back, avoiding the knife. She ran forward and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him towards her. Cas had taught her that this was a move that the enemy generally wouldn't expect, and she had found that to be true. She slit the Demon's throat with the knife, and then she ran towards the stairs as he fell to the ground.

She almost made it. Gail had ascended several steps when she felt herself being grabbed from behind. The Demon who'd been stunned had risen from the floor and lunged after her. He knocked her down, flipped her over, and wrenched the blade from her hand.

He put it to her throat. "You little bitch," he growled. "Just give me an excuse. Castiel tortured me for hours."

Crap. There was nothing she could do now. He was a big one, and he was pinning her to the staircase. She could see in his eyes that he was deadly serious. He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet, then marched her back to her cell and shoved her inside, slamming the door shut. He'd shoved her so hard that she lost her balance, falling face first onto the concrete.

Well, that had been a big bust, hadn't it? She got up slowly, rubbing her knees. Ouch. Too bad she couldn't heal herself, because she was sure that she was bleeding in at least a couple of places now.

Gail crawled over to the sleeping bag and sat on it, thinking furiously. She'd known her powers wouldn't work in here because of the sigils, but she'd been hoping, if she could get further away from the symbols, that her powers would come back. But she'd tried to blast those Demons, and she'd been unable to. What was this house, just one big, stupid sigil?

As she sat there in the darkness, feeling herself for injuries, the door to her cell suddenly opened and Lucifer walked in, accompanied by a human man.

"You're just bound and determined to be a troublemaker, aren't you?" Lucifer said. He snapped his fingers, and a light from up on the ceiling went on. She looked up. Nope. Way too high for her to reach, to break the glass. Gail was still thinking in terms of weapons.

Lucifer saw her looking, and he shook his head. So, she was still scheming. He should have figured as much. And now, she had cost him another minion. She hadn't killed the Demon whose throat she'd cut, of course, but he had smoked out, leaving his meat suit behind.

"Since you won't accept my kind hospitality willingly, I'm afraid we're going to have to escalate," Lucifer told her. "Meet Quinton. He's our resident chemist. He's the genius who put together the concoction for those chemical bombs we were using a while back. You remember those, don't you?"

She glared at him, saying nothing. But now, Quinton was taking a syringe out of his pocket, and her heart skipped a beat. Oh, crap.

"You're wasting your time," she told him, as calmly as she could. "Those bombs didn't work on Angels."

"I'm aware," Lucifer said. "But this is a new, improved formula. We need to do a beta test, and since you're the only Angel around..."

Quinton approached Gail. "Roll up your sleeve," he ordered her.

She stared up at him. "Obviously, you haven't met me," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Go to hell."

"I told you," Lucifer said to Quinton cheerfully. "You owe me twenty bucks." He snapped his fingers and suddenly, Gail was cuffed and bound. Quinton knelt down beside her and pulled up her sleeve, then injected her high up on the arm, near her shoulder. And he didn't do it gently.

Quinton stood up and looked at Lucifer. "We should see some effects in about ten minutes," he told him.

"Great," Lucifer said heartily. The men stood in silence for a moment. "You're dismissed," the Devil told Quinton. The man looked at him blankly. "Buzz off," Lucifer said. "I'll call you when I want you."

Quinton frowned, but he left the room. Lucifer snapped his fingers again, and a chair appeared, out of nowhere. He sat down on it and continued to look at her.

"I'm considering putting this new chemical out there," he said conversationally. "But I want to make sure it works on those pesky Angels, too. Some of them just don't know when to give up."

"You're right. We never give up," she said to him. "Why should we, when we're so close to defeating you?"

"Is that what you think?" he scoffed.

"Yes, that's what I think," she retorted. "Your numbers are way down, and you're getting desperate now."

He looked at her sharply. "Now what would make you say that my numbers were down?"

Gail cursed herself. Crap. Paul had told them that. She thought fast. "Well, they must be," she said. "We've been killing your men for a year now."

He regarded her suspiciously. Then he nodded. "So you have."

Gail was starting to feel a little strange now. Was it just the power of suggestion, or was the substance working on her?

Lucifer saw the expression on her face change, and he started to smile. Dammit. No wonder she wasn't very good at poker. "I hate to tell you this, but I don't feel sick," Gail told him. But she felt strange, nonetheless.

"You're not supposed to feel sick, you're supposed to feel angry," he responded. "Are you feeling angry, Gail?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're holding me here against my will, jabbing me with needles, and you're asking me if I'm angry? And they call my husband Captain Obvious."

But she WAS feeling angry now, and not just for that reason. In fact, she was starting to feel enraged. How dare he? How dare Lucifer come to her house and take her here, imprisoning her like this? Hadn't he put her through enough already?

"Of course you're mad at me," Lucifer remarked. "That's a given. But how do you feel about all of your so-called friends and family now? You don't see any of them here, coming to your rescue, do you?"

"They don't know where the compound is," she said. "'Narnia. Narnia.' That's all we got from those stupid idiots we tortured."

"True, but I've sent Castiel a couple of very excellent clues as to our location," Lucifer said smoothly. "He obviously doesn't care enough about you, or he'd be here by now. He's probably gone back to Africa. We all know how much he enjoys being worshipped and catered to. You told him he could forget about being treated like that at home, didn't you? So he's obviously decided which scenario he prefers."

Gail knew that Lucifer was full of it, but as the chemical permeated her bloodstream, she started to resent Cas, anyway. Her husband claimed he didn't enjoy it, yet every time she turned around, there he was, being worshipped and catered to. He HAD let them suffer the effects of the plagues in Egypt before he'd come and gotten them, hadn't he? Frank had gotten boils, and she'd had so many dead frogs in her room she'd had to be rescued. Then, they'd been robbed at gunpoint for the water they'd saved, and there had been dead animal carcasses all over the lobby of their hotel, stinking up the place and rotting, inviting flies and other insects.

Then, when they'd been in Paris, Cas had played the role of a male chauvinist pig, and he'd played it very well. They had been undercover, of course. Intellectually, she knew that. Still, it occurred to her now that he'd taken to that role a little too easily. And the worst part was that she had exhorted him to treat her that way, wanting to maintain their cover. It was easy to subjugate someone when you had their full permission, wasn't it?

And look at the year they'd just had. It had taken such a toll on all of them, yet her husband had emerged unscathed, hadn't he? Didn't he always? Not only that, but he'd found a whole new set of people to kowtow to him and tell him how great he was. And while she had been in Europe killing Demons and humans and turning into Rambo, Cas had been wandering around Africa, acting like Charlton Heston playing Moses. Pre-NRA, of course.

Gail was taking deep breaths now, trying to fight the way she was feeling. It was chemically induced, she reminded herself. It wasn't real. Lucifer liked to screw with people. Sam and Bobby had told them all what kinds of psychological games he liked to play.

"Too bad Cas isn't here right now, isn't it, Gail?" Lucifer taunted her. "You'd probably like to rip him a new one."

"Yes, I would," she blurted out. And part of her would, too. But it was a moot point, wasn't it? He wasn't here right now. Was he? She felt a surge of hope, and the adrenaline associated with that was enough to beat back her anger for the moment and replace it with a wave of love. Lucifer was wrong. Cas would be going nuts looking for her. Lucifer was a liar. Sending Cas clues. Yeah, right.

Lucifer had been enjoying winding her up, but now, he was kind of regretting the fact that Castiel wasn't here. The way his wife had looked a moment ago, she might just fry Cas herself, and do Lucifer a huge favour. But the clues he'd been giving Castiel had been deliberately vague. Lucifer had been planning to milk Castiel's torment for a while.

He rose from the chair and snapped his fingers, making it disappear again. "I've got a news flash for you, honey," Lucifer sneered. "There was no chemical in that shot. Absolutely none. It was a saline solution. The anger and hatred you felt for your husband just now was all yours. Chew on that for a while." He swept out of her room and slammed the cell door shut behind him. An instant later, the light on the ceiling went out, plunging her into darkness once again.

Lucifer sat down and wrote out another clue, and then he summoned the Demon who had delivered it to the bunker the last time.

Minutes later, Dean was holding the note, and Cas was looking over his shoulder at it.

"'Gabriel is looking down on me from his peaks, and I don't mean metaphorically'," Dean read aloud.

Predictably, Cas was angry. These days, he spent every moment of his time alternating between feeling scared and being angry, and the latter emotion was coming to the forefront now.

But Sam was racing to his laptop. "I think he's finally given us something we can use!" he enthused. He started typing away. "Peaks. Gabriel," he said aloud. "The San Gabriel Mountains! They're in Southern California!"

Cas raced over to where Sam sat, with Dean and Frank hot on his heels. The men all looked down at the laptop.

Frank's heart sank. "That doesn't exactly narrow it down," he said morosely. "Look at all the cities around there. Not to mention the desert regions."

"Hey, a few minutes ago, it was the whole planet," Sam pointed out. "At least we have a region to work in, now. And now that I think about it, it makes perfect sense. This whole area falls under the jurisdiction of Los Angeles County. Los Angeles. The City of Angels. A place where Cas would feel at home."

They all looked at each other. It fit, all right. "What about the flowers?" Dean asked.

Sam was typing away. "I'm working on it."

Gail sat in her cell, thinking about what had just happened. A saline solution. No chemicals whatsoever. Wow. Assuming that Lucifer had been telling the truth, which was a big assumption, she had some work to do on herself, apparently. She started thinking about her feelings. Analyzing them. Gail thought she'd cured of the old passive-aggressive way that she used to react to things, but obviously, she'd been wrong. If she got out of this alive, she would have to try to fit in a discussion with her husband into their busy schedule.

But in the meantime, she'd better put her mind to work thinking of an escape plan. The next time, the chemicals could be real. The next time Lucifer came to visit, who knew what he would have in store for her?

She shifted her position on the sleeping bag. Her rear end was falling asleep. It was kind of silly to give an Angel a sleeping bag, when you thought about it. It wasn't like she was going to zip herself up in it and go to sleep, or anything. Still, it was better than sitting on a cold, hard concrete floor.

Zip herself up! She started fumbling around. Yes, there was a zipper on the side of the sleeping bag. It wasn't much, but maybe it was something. She felt the material in the dark. If she could only see what she was doing! Still, if she worked it, Gail was fairly confident she could pull the zipper out of the sleeping bag by tearing at the stitching. She dug her fingers in and begun.

"I'm telling you, Master, that's what I saw," the Demon was saying.

Lucifer had sent out the Eye, and he was currently talking to the inside man he had in Africa. His spy had the improbable name of Wolfgang. And Wolfie, as his Demon buddies had dubbed him, had jumped into the meat suit of one of the villagers from the little farming community that Castiel had last called home. That was how Lucifer had known that their merry little group had gone back to the bunker. But now, Lucifer had called Wolfie for a routine status report, and he was being told something extremely interesting.

"Castiel was at the church," the Demon was telling Lucifer. "He called up to one of the men on the church roof, asking him where your compound was. I couldn't see the guy's face, because the sun was in my eyes. But when he came down the ladder, I thought I recognized him. And then, when Castiel started talking to him, he called him Paul."

"Paul? Paul," Lucifer had said, astonished. "Our Paul? My Paul?"

Holy crap, Wolfie thought, bemused. How many times could you say "Paul" in ten seconds? "Yes, Sir," he confirmed.

Lucifer gripped the book he had been holding and ripped it in half, straight down the middle. Then he glared at it and lit it on fire with his eyes, just for good measure. That bastard. That snake in the grass. Raphael's son, in bed with his father's killer? Who would have ever believed it?

"Thanks for your report," the Devil said to Wolfgang. He kept his voice calm, but he was absolutely livid. He popped himself over to Africa, to the coordinates that Wolfie had been speaking from. Wolfgang was startled by his sudden appearance.

"Nobody likes a snitch, Wolfie," Lucifer told the Demon. He snapped his fingers, exploding poor Wolfgang from the inside out. Then he waited in the shadows until he saw Paul walk by. He grabbed Paul from behind, and then they were gone.


	2. Belly Of The Beast

Chapter 2 - Belly Of The Beast

Gail had freed the zipper from the sleeping bag a long time ago, but she had no idea what to do with it now. She'd thought for sure that Lucifer or his minions would have come to taunt her, or seize her, or torture her, or...something. But there had been nothing, nothing at all. It was a good thing she wasn't a human, or she would have been dead of starvation long before now. How long had she been sitting here? Days, weeks? Months, even? Who knew?

She had paced the cell many, many times, trying to keep her muscles from seizing up. She'd felt all along the walls to see if there was any sort of draft, or irregularity in its construction. She'd scratched the walls with the zipper, hoping to broach sigils she couldn't see. But even if she was successful, there was still the sigil that was painted on the outside of the door. How the hell was she supposed to broach that? She'd thought that maybe, just maybe, if she were able to compromise the sigils on the inside of the cell, the effects of the one on the outside would be weakened. But it was impossible. She was stumbling around in the dark like some kind of bumbling fool.

Lucifer must be icing her. But, why? If you were playing with a really fun toy, why would you suddenly just leave it alone? The only answer she could think of was this: because you had found a better one.

To a certain extent, that was true. Or at least, it had been, for a while. When Lucifer had originally brought Paul back to the mansion, he had toyed with the Demon, trying to get Paul to fall down on his knees and beg his forgiveness for stabbing Lucifer in the back. But Paul had been defiant. Lucifer should just give up, he said. He'd lost his army, and Armageddon had been cancelled. Lucifer had lashed out, punishing Paul, because he'd had to admit to himself that the traitorous son of a bitch was right.

So Paul was in a separate basement cell now, broken and bleeding, and Gail was stumbling around hers, fresh out of ideas. And Lucifer was bored. It was time to give away the farm. Well, so to speak.

Cas's cell phone rang. He had been all over Southern California, looking for a needle in a haystack. But he hadn't been able to just hang around the bunker any more. With every day that passed, he could feel the tension building. They all kept looking at him as if he was the actual Messiah. As if he could produce Gail with a wave of his hand. And Cas had been staring at Sam and Tommy, wondering why they couldn't just use their magic computers to come up with something more than an area that encompassed nearly a million square miles.

It was Sam. "We got another clue, Cas," he said.

Cas popped himself back to the bunker, making Sam and Dean jump when he just suddenly appeared. "You have GOT to stop doing that," Sam said with a grimace.

"Yeah, I think Sammy just peed a little," Dean wisecracked.

Frank sniffed the air. "I think that was you," he said to Dean.

"Next time, just tell me you're coming," Sam said, waving the cell phone that was still in his hand.

"Never mind that; what's the clue?" Cas said impatiently.

"It's a poem," Sam replied. He showed Cas the piece of paper. "'In the time of free love/Was a song about an old lady/Sung by a Winchester/and a girl named Brady'," Cas read aloud. He frowned. "What does this nonsense mean?"

"Let's analyze it," Jody said, thoughtfully. "Free love. As far as I know, that would be the Sixties. Hippies, the Pill, etc."

"That makes sense," Frank agreed, nodding his head slowly. "So, it's a '60s song about an old lady. Sung by a Winchester?" He looked at the brothers. "You guys have any musicians in the family?"

"Not that I know of," Sam replied, looking to Dean for confirmation. Dean shrugged.

"Maybe you're looking at it too literally," Chuck piped up. "Winchester's a fairly common name, you know. Maybe we should be Googling singers named Winchester fron the 60s."

"Already on it," Tommy said, typing away. A moment later, he said, "Here's something. Oh, wait. No. It's not a singer, it's a song. Winchester Cathedral. Cas is an Angel, and the song's about a cathedral. Could that be something, maybe?"

"Winchester Cathedral is in London," Jody mused aloud. "Is the compound in London, maybe?"

"I thought we'd already decided it was in California," Frank said, frustrated.

"Why wouldn't you guys know about it?" Riley agonized. "It's talking about dinosaur music, isn't it?"

Dean glared at him. "Remind me to kick your ass when this crisis is over, Junior."

"What's this about dinosaur music?" Bobby asked. He'd been napping in a room down the hall and woken up to the hubbub of excited voices.

Cas read him the clue, and Bobby said, "That's easy. Little Old Lady From Pasadena. Jan and Dean. 1963, I think."

They all stared at him. "What?" Bobby said. "You've got Google, don'tcha? The time of free love was the 1960s. DEAN Winchester and JAN Brady, of the Brady Bunch TV show, also from the 60s. Jan and Dean. They had a song called The Little Old Lady From Pasadena. There. Puzzle solved."

Frank was staring at Bobby with his mouth open. "You're a genius, Bobby."

Bobby shrugged. "Hey, just because I talk with a corn-pone accent don't mean I don't have a few brain cells rattling around up in here," he said, tapping his head with one finger. "I still say life is a way better educator than all of those kilobytes, or whatever they are," he added, waving his hand at the computers.

"Pasta dinner!" Cas said suddenly. Now, everyone's heads swiveled to look at him.

"Uh...what?" Dean prompted his friend.

"When I went to see Paul and searched his mind, he was thinking of a plate of spaghetti. Pasta dinner. Pasadena! He must have been fighting the modification!" Cas exclaimed. He was excited now. "I need to go back and see him again." Then he popped out.

They all looked at each other. "Pasta dinner," Frank said aloud. "I would find that funny if I weren't so damn worried about my sister."

"It'll be OK, Frank," Bobby told him. "Unfortunately, I know Lucifer pretty well, and he likes to play with people. He's dangling her as bait, which means he hasn't done anything to her." He sounded a lot more confident than he felt, but that was what Bobby had to believe, or else he'd be as nuts as the rest of them were.

But Frank wasn't so sure. Surely Lucifer must know that he was kind of on his last stand by now, and that kind of desperate situation never ended well. Look at Hitler, in his bunker. Look at Waco.

"OK," Sam said briskly. "Pasadena. San Gabriel Mountains. Time to check Google Earth."

Meanwhile, Cas was back at the church, looking for Paul. But Paul was nowhere to be found.

"I'm sorry, Yissa," one of the farmers said. "We last saw him at the fellowship meeting. He hasn't been back since."

Cas let out a frustrated breath. Where had Paul gone now? Where would he go? Back to Lucifer? Certainly not willingly. His blood ran cold. Lucifer must have found out that Paul had switched his allegiance. Great. Just one more thing to worry about now.

He had to believe that Gail was all right. He just had to. Lucifer was only taunting him, using her as bait. It was Castiel he wanted. Cas just kept repeating that to himself, as a mantra. She was all right. She was all right.

But she was not all right, not really. A Demon had finally come for her. Just one, but she was in no condition to put up much of a fight. Despite her attempts to stay active, her muscles had cramped up. He told her to get up, but she was slow to rise. So he came forward and grabbed her, yanking her to her feet. She stumbled, and when he pulled her out the cell door, the light hit her eyes and she winced. She'd been in the dark for so long now that the adjustment was painful.

He dragged her up the stairs to the library, slamming her in the armchair. Lucifer was sitting in the chair opposite, having a drink. He made a show of taking his time putting a bookmark in the book that was on his lap and putting it on the table beside him.

"Oh, hello," Lucifer said to her. "When did you get here?"

Gail made no reply. She was too busy trying to stretch her muscles and get her vision back.

"I'm talking to you, and I expect an answer," Lucifer said harshly.

She rolled her eyes. "What do you want me to say?" she rasped. "It was a stupid question." She cleared her throat. Her voice was hoarse.

"What's that you said?" he mocked her, putting a hand to his ear. Then he affected a pout. "Oh, do you have a frog in your throat? You poor thing. I'd offer you a drink, but I know you don't like that. So, here you go." He leaned forward and threw his drink in her face.

That had been unexpected, and she sputtered, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. Great. She had just been trying to get her sight back, and now, her eyes were stinging.

"Oh, sorry," Lucifer said with a smirk. "Well, look on the bright side: at least you don't have to worry about poison that way."

Still, Gail said nothing. She was still trying to regain her equilibrium. Besides, she was wondering what the point of this little exchange was, after all this time. Was he deliberately trying to pick a fight?

"You know, your husband is a moron," Lucifer said in a conversational tone. "Even Sam Winchester and his famous brain haven't been able to find me. Are you sure they even want you back? I've already given them four excellent clues about where we are. I even gave them the city. And still, nothing. It looks like I'm going to have to take Castiel by the hand and lead him here. You guys are beginning to bore me. When he gets here, maybe things will liven up a bit."

But Gail had keyed in on his phraseology. "'You guys'?" she echoed. "What do you mean, 'you guys'?"

Lucifer nodded at the Demon, who was still standing behind Gail's chair. "Bring our other houseguest up here," he ordered his minion. "Maybe HE'LL drink with me. If his mouth doesn't hurt too much, that is."

Gail's stomach was churning now. Who was Lucifer holding prisoner here besides her, and what had he been doing to them?

Her questions were answered a few minutes later when the Demon came back, with Paul in tow. He slammed Paul down into another chair beside Gail. Then Lucifer snapped his fingers, gesturing to the door, and the Demon left the room.

Gail was horrified. Paul's face was bruised and bloody, and one of his eyes was swollen almost shut. She could only imagine what the rest of him looked like.

"Hey, Boo," he said softly, out of the corner of his mouth. "How are you? Has this big old bully been mistreating you?"

"Have a drink with me, Paul," Lucifer said to the Demon. "She thinks she's too good to drink with guys like us."

Paul gave a half-shrug. He might as well; anything that might dull the pain right now would be most welcome. He got up and started to walk over to the bar, moving gingerly.

Lucifer cleared his throat. "My glass is here, boy," he sneered.

Paul stiffened. Lucifer had used that term on purpose, of course. Paul turned around slowly, walking back to where Lucifer sat.

Gail cleared her throat again, and Paul glanced at her reflexively. She gave him a quick shake of her head. Please don't, she tried to say to him with her eyes.

Paul sighed. He knew this wasn't going to end well for him, but he supposed he shouldn't stir anything up with Gail in the room. If he still wanted to get to Heaven, which he did, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to piss Lucifer off even further with her here. So he simply extended his hand to receive Lucifer's glass. Then he turned back to the bar and made the drinks, delivering Lucifer's to his. Then he made Gail a drink and brought it to her.

Gail smiled gratefully at him and took a sip. She needed something for her throat. Paul took his seat and knocked back half of his drink in one gulp.

"There now, that's more like it," Lucifer said. "We're all being very civilized now. Why don't you two catch up on your news, while I send Castiel yet another invitation to join us? Maybe I'll have to draw him a road map. Be right back." He snapped his fingers and vanished.

Gail turned to Paul instantly, rising from her chair to stand by him. She sank to her knees in front of his chair. "Oh my God, Paul," she said, reaching up to touch his face. "Do you have any injuries I can actually heal?"

He smiled, even though it hurt his face to do so. "If you weren't married to the scariest Angel in Heaven, I might suggest something around the nether regions. It's been quite a while for me, Boo."

Gail laughed, but the sound felt so out of place here that she stopped immediately. Still, she blessed him for it. "That's OK, Paul," she said. "When we get out of here and you get back up to Heaven, I'll have to see if I can fix you up with a nice female Angel. Unless, you know, you prefer the other flavour. That's perfectly OK, too."

He eyed her with amusement. "What is it about you ladies, wanting to fix everyone up?"

She shrugged. "Hey, when we're happy, we just want everyone else to be, too." Then she lowered her voice, just in case. "How are we going to get out of here, Paul?"

"I don't think we can," he said to her. "I've got no powers now. Zero. You?"

Gail shook her head. "No, I don't, either. But now that there are two of us, maybe we can fight our way out."

He laughed derisively. "With no weapons and no powers? I can barely move, Gail. They kicked the crap out of me, and then they hung me upside down and did it again."

She let out a frustrated breath. "Well, we can't just sit here on our asses and do nothing!"

"Why don't we let Castiel and those flannel-shirted bastards come get us, then?" Paul said wearily.

"You want to sit back and just let them walk into his trap?" she said angrily. "Are you SURE you want to get to Heaven? Don't be such a coward, Paul!"

Her rebuke stung, because it was partly true. He'd been defiant when Lucifer brought him here, but Paul was tired now, and he was in agony. He'd been ready to just give up and let Lucifer kill him. But if he didn't help Gail now, would he even deserve to go to the Garden? And, more importantly, would he be able to live with himself?

"OK, little lady," Paul said, standing slowly from his chair. "Let's you and I try to bust out of here."

Lucifer carefully crafted his last clue. If this didn't work, he was gonna have to conjure up some neon arrows, pointing the way. But he was sure this one was going to work. It had to. He supposed he could just give Castiel the coordinates for the location of the compound, but he wanted to make them work for it.

When he was done, he winked himself over to the bunker's property. He had no minion he could rely on to send here anymore. He'd disintegrated the Demon he'd sent here the last time in a fit of temper, when the black-eyed bastard had said something to annoy him. Lucifer couldn't even remember what the guy had said any more. And he'd exploded Quinton too, when the chemist had told him that it was impossible to come up with a dirty bomb that would kill humans, Demons, and Angels.

"Your last formula affected both humans and Demons!" Lucifer had yelled, agitated. "Why can't you just throw one more ingredient in there, then?"

Quinton had stared at him, incredulous. A chemical formula was a delicate operation, especially a toxic one. Did Lucifer think you could just throw an onion in the pot and call it a stew? Besides, his information was faulty. "The last formula didn't affect Demons," Quinton said, puzzled.

"Sure it did," Lucifer insisted. "That's why we stopped using it." But suddenly, he remembered: it was Paul who had told him that. Paul, the traitor. Lucifer saw red. He snapped his fingers and exploded Quinton, then gave an order for Paul to be beaten, but kept alive.

Now Lucifer was down to only a handful of Demon followers, so he'd had to go to the bunker himself. Because of those stupid golden candlesticks, he had to stand even further back from the place than his minion had, but Lucifer had powers that guy had only ever dreamed of, so he wasn't too concerned.

He stood there from afar looking at the metal door, seething inside. Gone were the days when he could just stroll up there and let himself in, like he'd done that one time. Damn the Pope, and damn his damn Holy objects. Sinead O'Connor had been right.

But he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. "CASTIEL!" he bellowed. The birds dropped out of the sky overhead, and the grass in the field behind the bunker turned black. It wouldn't grow again for five years after that date.

Cas's head snapped up. He had been sitting at the library table with his head in his hands. They had a city, a county, and a mountain range. Then why had he not been able to find the compound? He'd been searching non-stop for days, all day long, only stopping to come here briefly to see if there had been any further clues received. He'd had his head in his hands, clenching his hair in sheer anguish.

But as soon as Lucifer yelled his name, Cas sat up at attention. Everyone looked at him. No one else had heard the call, of course.

"What is it, Cas?" Sam asked him.

Cas winked himself outside, and his eyes grew wide. Lucifer was standing in the field behind the bunker, and he was grinning. "You'd better hurry up and find me, Cas," he taunted the Angel. "Your wife's beginning to think you don't love her any more. Here. Catch." Lucifer threw the note up in the air and flicked his finger, and it made a beeline for Cas, who caught it in mid-air. "See you soon," Lucifer said. He snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Cas looked down at the note, then winked himself back inside. He was enraged, of course, but strangely, he was also encouraged. The fact that Lucifer had come here himself to deliver the note signified to Castiel that the game was nearly at an end.

"It's a clue, and I believe it's the last one we'll need," Cas announced. He gave the piece of paper to Sam, who read it aloud: "'Nothing rhymes with it, but we don't care, because we're rich'." Sam looked at Tommy. "What do you think?"

"Orange," Riley piped up.

"What?" Tommy asked him.

"Orange," Riley repeated. "Nothing rhymes with orange."

"That's it," Tommy said excitedly. He zoomed in on the map. "There's an area on Orange Grove Boulevard called Millionaire's Row!"

"No, that can't be it," Cas said, frustrated. "I was there already. It looked like a likely area, because many of the mansions there have ample grounds around them. But I saw nothing."

"Doesn't he have the ability to shield things?" Sam speculated aloud. "Could he shield his whole compound, maybe?"

Cas pursed his lips. "I don't see any reason why he couldn't. But he has signified that he wants me to come, so he will reveal it to me." He winked himself out of the bunker abruptly.

They all looked at each other. Cas and his sudden exits. But they couldn't let him go it alone. What kind of friends would they be if they just sat here and did nothing?

"OK, now that Cas is gone, I'm in charge," Dean announced. His lips twitched briefly. "Since Gail isn't here too, that is. Anyway: Frank, Sam, and Jody, grab your weapons. We're gonna have Kevin and Riley teleport us to this Orange Grove place."

"I want to go, too," Chuck said to Dean. He was still feeling extremely guilty about not having fought alongside any of his friends the past year.

"No, Chuck," Dean replied. "I need you here, ready to roll. If Kevin or Riley call you on the Radio and we tell you it's a go, we still need somebody who can bring Metatron and Crowley there, to finish Lucifer off. Cas told me all about why he was leaving you behind when we went out there, and I think he made the right call."

Chuck was speechless. That was the highest compliment Dean had ever paid him. He took a moment to savour it.

A minute later, the humans came rushing back out from the hallway, weapons in hand. As Sam handed Dean two different kinds of knives and a gun, the brothers made eye contact with Bobby. Dean had deliberately left their older friend off the rescue team. Bobby had been saying, or more accurately complaining earlier that his body was aching all over. The rheumatoid arthritis that had been developing in him when he had previously been a human was coming back with a vengeance, and all that sleeping rough they'd done in the past year hadn't helped. Their friend had been moving gingerly around the bunker for a while, and he'd been napping a lot more often than they were used to seeing. So, unless an all-out assault was required on the place, Dean was electing to leave Bobby behind.

Bobby was frowning, but he realized why he wasn't being included in the group. He didn't like it, but he understood it. And he'd thought that being taken from this Earth too soon was going to be the worst of his problems. Now he had a do-over, but it wasn't exactly the fresh start he'd been hoping for. His body was betraying him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Good luck," Bobby said to the group. He sat down heavily at the library table, looking down at its surface, and a moment later the Angels popped out with the humans in tow.

Cas appeared just outside Lucifer's compound at one end of Millionaire's Row. As he had predicted, the shielding had been weakened, enabling Castiel to see the mansion and its grounds.

There was a Demon sentry posted on the grounds, and as soon as he spotted Castiel, he spoke into the walkie-talkie, advising Lucifer that their target was here. Lucifer was upstairs, preparing the bedroom. Once he was finished with the sigils, he popped down to the library to retrieve Gail and Paul. But there was only one problem: they weren't there.

Paul had finally been able to pick the lock on the door for the library, the one that led outside. He'd hoped to be able to just snap himself and Gail out of the room, but Lucifer must have put some extra mojo on his symbols, because Paul had been unable to do it, even though he should be unaffected by sigils. And he'd been reluctant to bust out of the other library door into the mansion proper, because that was exactly the move they'd be expecting.

He opened the doors slowly and looked outside. The library faced a brick courtyard, and there was a gate there leading to the rear of the property.

"If we can get out that gate, we should be far enough away from the sigils to get you out of here," Paul told her softly. Gail put her hand in his, and he looked at her in surprise. "No, Paul. WE'RE getting out of here," she said to him. "No way I'm leaving you here to be his punching bag."

Paul was silent. He'd known she was going to say that, of course. But he also knew that if it came down to only one of them getting out of here in one piece, it was gonna be his little Boo, going home to her husband. And if Paul were to die in the act of saving her, he was pretty sure his next stop would be the Garden. And, he was ready. He had helped the townspeople fix the roof of the church, and then he had knelt in that same church shortly before Lucifer had taken him and made his confession. His soul felt as cleansed as it was going to get.

They made it as far as the gate, but just as Gail was starting to feel the effects of the sigils lessen, Lucifer appeared in front of them. "Nice try, but that would spoil all the fun," he said, smiling. Lucifer looked at Paul, and his smile disappeared. "I'll deal with you later." He put his hand on Paul's forehead and pushed him back into his cell in the mansion's basement.

Then Lucifer looked at Gail. "Time to pretty yourself up, honey. Your husband's coming." He gave her the push to the upstairs bedroom, then winked himself to the vestibule to await Castiel's arrival.

Dean's group was standing at the same end of Millionaire's Row as the compound, but they couldn't see it. After Castiel had entered the property, Lucifer had waved his arms, dropping the veil over the compound again. He didn't want the whole cavalry charging in. This was between the Originals. Keeping it in the family, so to speak. No humans allowed.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed, frustrated. They'd looked all over, but there was no compound, and no Cas.

"He must have lifted the shielding just long enough for Cas to get in," Sam mused aloud. "He obviously doesn't want Cas to have backup." He thought for a moment, then took out his cell phone.

Bobby picked up. "It looks like there was a reason for you to be in the bunker after all," Sam told him. "Can you check and see if there's any way to break the shielding on a property as big as this compound must be?"

Bobby frowned. "I doubt it, Sam. Not if Lucifer put the protection on, himself." He thought for a moment. "Sam? I'll call ya back. Just hang tight." Then he hung up, looking at Chuck. Now the debate was raging inside Bobby's head. If Lucifer had Cas now as well as Gail, time was of the essence. He needed to get them help, and he needed to do it fast. But how could Dean and his team help, if they couldn't see the place? Bobby knew of nothing in the lore that would override Lucifer's spell. But he might know a person who could.

Bobby asked Chuck to come down the hallway with him so they couldn't be overheard. "I might have a way to help them," he told Chuck, "but it's not exactly...kosher, strictly speaking. If I ask you to take me somewhere, will you keep it to yourself, if it's gonna help rescue Gail and Cas?"

Chuck nodded vigorously. Like Bobby, he was anxious to make a meaningful contribution. "Sure, Bobby. Whatever you need." Bobby told him where he wanted to go, and the two of them winked out.

Paul was pacing the floor of his cell. Man. Oh, man. What in the hell was he supposed to do now? He had a really bad feeling about this. He dropped to his knees and began to pray.

Cas had been able to make his way up to the porch of the main house without being accosted. As he looked around the ground, he was reminded of a documentary he'd seen once on TV. The show had been about the original Woodstock rock concert, the one in the late 1960s. They had shown pictures of the way that the campgrounds had looked after all of the festivities were concluded. Mud, abandoned tents and sleeping bags, and heaps of garbage. That was what he was seeing now. But no humans, and no Demons. Unless there were some remnants of Lucifer's army in a separate location, it appeared as if his numbers had been truly decimated.

Cas moved quietly over to where the lone Demon lookout was standing. It had Its back to the Angel, and It was staring off into the distance. Cas was puzzled. Either this guy was very bad at his job, or he was here to be a sacrifice. Well, either way, Cas was happy to oblige. He put his hand over the Demon's mouth and slit Its throat with the Demon knife he was holding in his other hand. Then he eased the vessel to the ground, so no noise would be made.

He approached the front door of the mansion with extreme caution. This smelled like a trap to him, all right. As soon as he saw that the front door of the house was slightly ajar, his suspicions were confirmed. There would be no need for stealth now.

Cas pushed the door open and walked into the house. He stood in the middle of the vestibule. "I'm here!" he shouted.

Lucifer appeared. "Well, it's about time," he said archly. "I thought I was going to have to draw you a map. As it is, you took so long to get here that Gail couldn't wait any more. She's upstairs in my bedroom right now. She said if you didn't love her enough to come and get her, to tell you to get lost."

Cas rolled his eyes. "You'll excuse me if I don't just take your word for that," he said dryly. "Take me to her. Once I have ascertained that she is all right I will send her home, and then you and I can get on with the business at hand."

Lucifer smiled coldly. "I'm sure that Gail likes it when you're masterful, but I call the shots around here, not you."

"Be that as it may, I know it's me you want," Castiel said calmly. "Gail was merely the bait. So let her go, and then we can begin the negotiation."

Unbelievable, Lucifer thought, shaking his head. His Brother just didn't get who was in charge here. But he would. Oh, yes. He would. "I'll tell you what," he offered, "let's both go see Gail. See which one of us she prefers."

Cas eyed him suspiciously. He wasn't making any sense. What kind of a scheme did Lucifer have in mind now? Still, if Cas could just see Gail and make sure she was all right, that was the most important thing, as far as he was concerned.

"All right, let's go and see her, then," Cas agreed.

Chuck popped Bobby over to the downtown hotel, as requested. "I'm gonna ask the Front Desk to call her room, and then I'm gonna have her meet me in the bar," he told Chuck. "Maybe you'd better make yourself scarce. She'll be more inclined to help me if she thinks I came alone."

Chuck was intrigued. "She"? Did Bobby have a lady friend? But if he did, why the secrecy? Who would care? But he melted into the shadows in the corner of the hotel bar, as he'd been asked to do. He kept an eye on the table where Bobby was sitting, though. Hey, he was curious. Besides, Bobby would need transportation back to the bunker, wouldn't he?

A few minutes later, a woman with long, flaming red hair walked into the bar. Bobby stood from his chair, and the woman smiled and walked over to his table. The two embraced and shared a quick kiss, and then Bobby started to talk to her.

Chuck had to grab the pillar he was standing behind with both hands to steady himself. Desiree? Bobby and Desiree?! What the hell?

He had to take a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. His first impulse had been to rush over there and confront her. The last time Chuck had seen Desiree, she had given him that hexed sculpture of the Eiffel Tower, after which Chuck had tried to molest Gail and kill Cas, while under its spell. At the very least, she owed him an explanation. But on the other hand, Bobby must know that she was a witch, and that was why he didn't want anybody to know. If Desiree had a spell that would help them out, Chuck had better put his personal feelings aside and let Bobby handle it.

Bobby told Rowena what he was looking for. She was ambivalent about saving the Angels, but Bobby was telling her that if he could get his group into the compound, they might be able to take care of Lucifer, and that was something she did want. Rowena was still upset about Lucifer's attempt to betray her by giving her over to her son, and she had hated to see what the last year had done to her Bobby. The blame for that could also be laid directly at Lucifer's doorstep.

"I can help you, dearie," she said to Bobby, putting her hand on top of his. "I have a spell that should be able to break through the shielding," she told him. "It's on Page Number...let's see...sixty-two or sixty-four of my spell book, if I remember correctly. I'll give you one of my hex bags. Simply throw it on the ground, recite the incantation from the book, and the shielding should vanish long enough for you to get your people in."

"Thanks, Ro," Bobby said to her. "You wouldn't happen to have that hex bag on you, wouldja?"

She sighed. "I was hoping you'd have time to come up to my room, but I suppose you're in a mad hurry to save your Angels." Rowena rolled her eyes. "Only for you, Bobby." She looked around the room, but no one was looking their way, so she reached up her skirt and produced the hex bag, putting it into his hand.

"Where did you - " Bobby started to say. "Check that. I probably don't want to know," he added dryly.

Rowena smiled. "No, you probably don't. Off you go, then. Call me when you have a few minutes to yourself. The bed in my suite is very comfortable."

Bobby thanked her, without commenting on what she'd said. He'd deal with that once the current crisis was over. Something would have to be done, he knew. It was deja vu all over again. He had been sneaking around to see her, and his conscience had been nagging at him. Sooner or later, he would have to decide which was more important to him: Rowena's companionship, or his friends' opinions about it. And what about his self-respect? Rowena had been nothing but sweet to him since she'd come back into his life, but Bobby had no illusions about who or what she was. One day, if her agenda conflicted with that of any of the God Squad's, they were gonna have a problem.

But for now, Bobby kissed her on the forehead and walked towards the exit. Chuck reached out from behind the pillar and snagged him by the arm. "Did you get what we need?" Chuck asked him in a soft voice. Bobby nodded, and Chuck winked him back to the bunker.

Cas opened the door to the master bedroom, and there she was. Gail had been pacing the room from end to end and corner to corner looking for an escape route, but of course, there was none. Her head snapped up when she heard the door open, and when she saw that it was her husband, her face lit up. But as she rushed forward, she stayed silent. She'd better not yell and call attention to his presence here.

Cas closed the door behind him, and then he turned to her. "Thank God you're all right," he said quietly. He reached out and pulled her to him for a hug. "Thank God," he repeated.

Gail hugged him back, and then she pulled out of the embrace. "Are you here alone?" she asked him.

"Yes," he told her. "Lucifer directed me to come alone."

"I can't use any of my powers here in the house," she said anxiously. "How did you get in? How many guards are there? Where's Lucifer?"

"First things first," Cas said. His arms tightened around her, and he kissed her on the mouth. She responded for a moment. She'd been so scared, and she was sure he had been, too. But then, she broke the kiss. "OK, let's get out of here," she said to her husband. "What's the plan?"

"Wait. I want to talk to you, first," Cas said. He was frowning. "Is it true that you're still angry with me about Africa?"

Now she understood. Cas and Lucifer had talked, and Lucifer had gotten in Cas's head. "This isn't the time to talk about that," she told him. "We need to get out of here, before he comes."

Incredibly, Cas's lips twitched. "He won't be coming here, Gail. He's gone. Elvis has left the building, as I believe the expression goes."

Gail opened her mouth to speak, but before she could protest again, Cas was kissing her again, and this time his tongue was in her mouth. He moved in closer to her, and she could feel that he was in an excited state.

"We were apart for an entire year, and there's a nice big bed over there," Cas breathed, rubbing against her. "You're my wife, aren't you? I know how much you like it, and I like it, too." He licked his lips. "I'm taking charge, Gail. You like it when I do that, don't you? I think you should call me Daddy, and I'll call you Honey, or Baby Doll. How would you like that? I'll be your Daddy, and you can be my Baby. Maybe I'll whip you with my belt while you're taking care of me. I'll bet you would like that."

Cas's eyes were a sickly yellow as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed. He lay on top of her. "We're gonna finish what we started, Sarah. And you won't be able to wink out on me this time."

Bobby and Chuck popped back into the bunker. "I'll grab the book. You grab those," Bobby said to Chuck, gesturing towards the candlesticks on the library room table. He waggled the hex bag. "This'll only uncloak the place. We'll need all the help we can get once we get inside." He ducked into the shelves and stooped to look. Sure enough, Sam had the spell book filed neatly between Werewolves and Wizardry. Bobby smiled grimly. God had been very generous to Sam in the brains department.

"We'll be back soon," Bobby told Barry, Tommy and Rob. Chuck had one golden candlestick in each hand, and Bobby shoved the hex bag into his pants pocket. Then he grabbed Chuck's arm, and they were gone.

"Get out of my husband," Gail said with gritted teeth. Cas's yellow eyes were freaking her out. The Demon days had only happened in their minds, yet she was mentally and emotionally regressing back to that time.

Cas/Lucifer grinned. "You realize how dirty that sounds, right? Then again, everything sounds dirty to me right now. You and I have been long overdue for this date, Gail. And the beauty of it is, I AM your husband right now. So you won't even have to close your eyes. You can keep them wide open while Cas and I are doing all kinds of disgusting things to you. You guys probably already do most of them, anyway."

Gail was struggling to get out from underneath him, but he was too strong. Still, she managed to wrench one of her arms out of his grasp and pushed at his chest.

Lucifer looked down at her hand, grinning. "What's that? Foreplay? Well, aren't you cute. You're gonna have to do a lot better than that if you don't want us to get in your pants. But I don't know why you wouldn't, Gail. I'll tell you what: I may hate my Brother, but I've gotta be honest. He's got a lot to offer here, if you know what I mean." Then he laughed derisively. "But, look who I'm talking to. Of course you would know. And my respect for you just grew a little. But we're wasting time now."

He was trying to grab her free hand. If he could - just - His eyes flared red. "Keep still!" Lucifer roared. "This is gonna happen, whether you like it or not! Hey, I'm giving you a break, here. Just forget I'm in here and pretend it's just Castiel. It'll be fun, I promise."

Gail slapped him in the face, and Lucifer grabbed her hand by the wrist. "Really, Gail? S & M? Who would have ever thought you were into that? But, hey, I could make it hurt, if that's what you want. I'm pretty sure it's going to, anyway."

Suddenly, Cas's face changed. "You will not hurt her," he growled. "I won't let you."

Then his face changed again, and Lucifer grinned. "Really, Big Boy?" he said scornfully. "Then go ahead and stop me. I dare you." He grabbed Gail's free arm and transferred it to the hand that was holding her other arm, and used his free hand to take the sigil handcuffs out of his pants pocket. "This could actually be really sexy, if you let it," Lucifer said in Gail's ear. Then he gave it a lick. "Just think of it as exploring a different side of yourself," he continued. He shook out the cuffs, preparing to put them on her wrists.

"Fight him, Gail, please," Cas said through gritted teeth. "I'm not strong enough to expel him."

"Oh, but I'm strong enough to fight him?" she retorted, frustrated. "I mean, you? I mean...You know what I mean!"

Lucifer grinned again. "Oh, this is too good. By all means, keep on arguing, you two. That way, the sex will be even hotter." He clamped one of the handcuffs around her wrist.

"Fight him, Gail. Please, fight him, as hard as you can," Cas was pleading.

She was bucking under him now. "I don't - want - to hurt you, Cas!" she exclaimed. But she saw no choice. She raised her leg quickly and kneed him in the groin.

He cried out in pain, and his grip on her loosened. She pushed him off of her and jumped off the bed, running to the door. She tugged on it, but it wouldn't open. She looked more closely at the door. In the movies, the person always fumbled when they tried to unlock the door, enabling the bad guy to catch up with them. But there was no lock. She tugged again, with all her might. Nothing.

Lucifer slammed into her from behind, pushing her up against the door. Then he spun her around to face him. "That's it. I'm out of patience," he told her. He had Cas's Angel blade in his hand. Then he grabbed the cuff that was dangling from her wrist and yanked on it, dragging her back towards the bed. She had no choice but to follow.

"Lucky for you that Castiel's man parts weren't permanently damaged by that little move of yours," Lucifer sneered. He threw her on the bed and climbed on top of her again, but this time, he had the tip of the knife pressed to her chest. He straddled her. "But if you try one more little trick, the party's over."

Bobby threw the hex bag down on the ground and recited the incantation from Rowena's spell book. Sam and Dean were looking at him curiously, but they said nothing for the moment. The priority was to save Gail and Cas; any discussion of how that was being accomplished could wait.

Suddenly, they could see the compound. Amazing, Bobby thought. It had been there the whole time, they just hadn't been able to see it. Just like Brigadoon, rising out of the mist. He didn't say that out loud, though. He doubted that any of them would understand the reference.

The humans and the Angels rushed through the campgrounds to the house as quietly as they could, weapons at the ready. When they reached the porch, Frank looked down at the Demon whose throat Cas had cut. He flashed the others a brief grin. His brother-in-law had been here, all right.

They proceeded single file into the house, looking around. All was quiet. No Demons, no Lucifer. But suddenly, a door burst open straight ahead and to the right. Sam, Frank, Dean and Jody all raised their weapons. "Freeze!" Jody shouted, out of reflex.

"Oh, man, is it the Sixties again?" Paul quipped.

Paul had been in his basement cell, praying that he would be able to come up with something, anything, to save Gail. No matter what it took, he was prepared to sacrifice. He begged their Father to give him the opportunity. This wasn't about Paul, or his aspirations. He had finally had his epiphany in Africa. It was all about doing the right thing. She didn't deserve whatever Lucifer had in store for her. Paul had watched Gail go from town to town in Europe, leading her team, keeping them all alive, fighting valiantly every day, for a whole year. And now, she was still fighting. Please, Lord, let me help her, he prayed. Please.

Paul heard a noise, and he looked up. The door to his cell creaked open, as if nudged by someone on the other side. He got swiftly to his feet and edged cautiously over there, but when he peeked outside, there was no one there.

He silently thanked his Father, and then he hurried up the stairs and burst into the vestibule, just in time to encounter the God Squad.

"Where's Castiel?" Paul asked them, as they lowered their weapons.

Dean shrugged. "We haven't seen him yet." There was no sense in being quiet now. If they were going to be attacked, they would have been attacked by now.

Sam looked up the staircase, frowning. "We need to check up there," he said uneasily.

As the God Squad were ascending the stairs, Lucifer was still menacing Gail with Cas's blade. "You two ruined everything for me," he told her. "Now, I'm going to return the favour. I'm gonna rip your clothes off and do the same thing to you that you guys have been systematically doing to me, ever since I got free. Then, every time your Sainted husband reaches out for you in bed, you'll cringe, because it's me you'll be remembering. And every time he tries to...well, you know...he'll be remembering how badly he hurt you, and how you screamed for him to stop. Won't that be fun?"

"Kill me, Gail," Cas said. He was forcing the words out, fighting for control of his own body. "If you kill me while he's still inside me, he'll die, too."

"Actually, that's an excellent idea," Lucifer said cheerfully. He pressed the knife into Gail's hand. "Kill him. Kill him, and I'll spare you."

Gail looked at him incredulously. As if. Was he nuts?

"Do it, Gail," Lucifer exhorted her. "Do it, before we hurt you." He was excited now. If he could just get her to kill Castiel, while his Holy Brother's essence was draining out of his body, Lucifer could force his own essence into Gail. Then, he could use her to walk him down the hall to his own vessel and breathe himself back into...well, himself. Or maybe he would just stay in her for a little bit. See what that was like. But if he did jump into his original vessel, he wouldn't even bother to kill her. Leaving her alive would be far more cruel, because then she would have to live every day with the knowledge that she had killed her own husband.

But before he forced his essence into her, Lucifer still wanted to force something else into her. She owed him that. At least, that was the way he saw it. He pinned her to the bed, tugging at his belt.

"Kill me, my love," Cas pleaded with her.

"No!" she screamed. So, Lucifer was going to screw her; so what? Cas was in there too, and it was his face she was looking at, and his body. It would still be preferable to killing him. She knew what Lucifer was trying to do, and it wasn't going to happen. She flung Cas's blade across the room. "No!" she shouted again.

Sam and Dean were the first ones to hit the landing, and they heard Gail scream. They ran down the hallway and tried to open the door, but it was sealed. There was a sigil painted on the outside of the door. "Dammit!" Chuck exclaimed. "I can't wink in there!"

"Break it down, boys," Bobby said.

"We're trying!" Dean exclaimed. He and Sam and Frank were all throwing themselves against the door, but it wouldn't budge.

"Oh, for God's sake," Jody said, exasperated. "Get out of the way!" The men moved aside, and she shouldered the shotgun she'd been carrying. She peppered the door with a barrage of shells, blasting it off its hinges.

"Remind me later to tell you how hot that was," Frank said to her. Then he rushed into the room, with the other humans on his heels. The Angels tried to pass through, but they still couldn't.

Paul was able to enter the room, but he moved slowly, as if he were underwater. He stood behind the others. They'd stopped short, looking at the bed. Cas and Gail were still on it, and they were still struggling. Cas's head had snapped up when they had all burst into the room, and his friends were shocked when they saw his yellow eyes.

"Cas!" Dean yelled. "What the hell?!"

"Jealous, Dean?" Lucifer sneered. "I imagine Sam is, too, but from a different viewpoint, maybe." He grinned. "You might as well put those guns down. But if one of you wants to take me on, man to man, pick up that Angel blade over there." He motioned with his head over to where Cas's blade lay on the floor. "Somebody should kill me, before I snap Gail's neck like a twig." He put his hand on her throat. "I'll totally do it, too. So, which one of you has the cojones to do it? Sammy? Jody, maybe?"

"Don't listen to him!" Gail shouted. "There has to be another way!"

"Shut up," Lucifer snarled. Cas's hand tightened around her neck, cutting off her oxygen. "You - need - to - shut - the - hell - up!" he roared, squeezing tighter with each syllable.

Paul looked wildly back into the corridor, where the Angels stood, helpless. Chuck was looking panicked, holding a golden candlestick in each hand. Paul had known right away when he'd seen them that they were heavy-duty sacred objects. "Toss those here!" he yelled at Chuck. The Angel tossed the candlesticks to the Demon, who caught them neatly. They felt a little warm in his hands, but not nearly as hot as he'd feared they might be. But right now, it wouldn't matter if they burned his hands right off of his arms. It was the only way. He walked towards the bed, extending the candlesticks. "I compel Thee to leave!" Paul exclaimed.

Lucifer's hand flew off Gail's throat. She coughed and retched, gasping for air. Lucifer got off the bed and retreated from Paul's advance. For a moment, Cas was able to break through, and he smiled. "Thank you, Paul." Then Lucifer regained control, but he was weakened now. Damn candlesticks. He was starting to feel sick now. How was Paul even able to hold them without them burning the flesh right off his hands? He was a Demon, wasn't he?

Lucifer had his back against the wall now, but there was nowhere left to go. "I can give you anything," he whined. "Money, whores, drugs, anything."

Paul laughed shortly. "Can you give me redemption? Can you give me salvation?"

"Redemption?" Lucifer scoffed. "Salvation? Why would you want those things?"

"Because they matter," Paul said, holding his head up. "Because, at the end of the day, they're the only things that matter. Now, get out of my friend!"

He thrust the candlesticks forward, close to Cas's face. The Angel opened his mouth and screamed, long and loud. Then Lucifer's green essence came pouring out of him. It shot up towards the ceiling, then across the room and out the door. The Angels leaped out of the way as the smoke shot past them and down the corridor.

"Holy crap," Riley breathed. "Are they OK, Chuck? Can you see?"

Chuck was the nearest to the door. He moved forward tentatively, but he found that he could enter the room now. "Come on, you guys. It's OK now," he said, beckoning to the other Angels.

Cas raced back to the bed. "Are you all right, Gail?" he asked her anxiously. He reached out to touch her face.

She was rubbing her throat, grimacing. She'd stopped coughing now, but he could see the vivid red marks on her neck. Cas looked at his hand, anguished. He had almost choked her to death. My God.

"Go after him," Gail rasped. "Remember Heaven. Go after him, Cas. Take the candlesticks. Maybe he'll be weakened enough. Go."

She was right. Cas looked at Frank. "Go," Gail's brother said. "If you can end that assclown, do it now. I'll take care of her." He sat down on the bed beside Gail. "Do you need anything, kiddo?"

Gail shook her head silently as Cas looked at Paul. "Come with me," the Angel said. "Do you want me to take one of those?" He gestured towards the candlesticks.

Paul was smiling. "No, I'm good, Cas. Let's go get the son of a bitch."

They turned around to leave the room, but suddenly, Lucifer reappeared. "You made a big mistake, Paul," he snarled. He snapped his fingers, and Paul went flying across the room. The candlesticks sailed out of his hands. Aw, crap. Paul looked at Gail. "See you on the flip side, Boo," he said, smiling weakly at her. Then Lucifer waved his finger, and Paul's head jerked to the side. His eyes started to bleed.

"No!" Gail screamed hoarsely. She pushed Frank out of the way and scrambled off the bed, running over to where Paul lay.

Cas was beyond enraged. He bent to the floor and picked up the candlesticks, thrusting them towards Lucifer. "I will take these and ram them down your throat," he said in his quiet voice.

"God, you're sexy when you talk like that," Lucifer said sarcastically. "Maybe I should have tried to put the cuffs on you, instead. I'll be seeing you again, real soon." Then he snapped his fingers, and then he was gone.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room were that of Gail crying over Paul's corpse, and Cas breathing heavily. The others were so stunned they had no idea what to do. Then Cas yelled incoherently, in pure rage, and he threw the candlesticks at the wall. They bounced off of it, then landed upright on the floor.

Frank felt a quip bubbling up in his throat, but in a rare moment of discretion, he held his tongue. He looked down at Gail. She was frantically running her hands over Paul, but there was no healing to be done. Lucifer had broken Paul's neck and burst a blood clot in his brain, and Paul had died instantly. He hadn't had time to exit his vessel, but then again, he hadn't really tried. Their Father was into sacrifices sometimes, and today, Paul had been God's Designated Hitter.

Still, Gail kept waving her hands over Paul, cleaning the blood from his face and clothes. It was the least she could do for him. But she was sad, and she was also very, very angry. What had been the point?

Cas knelt down on the floor next to his wife and put his arms around her, but he did so gently. He could see the bruises already coming in on her neck, and she had red marks and abrasions on her arms and wrists. She still had the cuff dangling from the one wrist, but Cas touched it now, and it fell harmlessly to the floor. Residuals of the candlesticks' sacred power, he supposed. The candlesticks' sacred power!

Cas turned his head. "Dean, please get the candlesticks and bring them here. Hurry! Maybe there's still time!"

Gail's mouth fell open. Could it be?

Dean retrieved the candlesticks and rushed over with them. Cas grabbed them from him and laid them on Paul's chest. He put Paul's hands around them, then laid his own hands on top of Paul's. Gail looked at Cas questioningly. "Go ahead, my darling," Cas encouraged her softly. She put her hands on top of Cas's. Both Angels bowed their heads and after a moment, his blue glow and her golden one combined, suffusing Paul's body. Their friends all held their breath.

Nothing. Not a blessed thing, Cas thought bitterly. "No," Gail breathed. "No. It's not fair." Cas started to remove his hands from Paul, sighing deeply. "No, Cas!" Gail wailed. She clutched at him. "No! It's not fair!"

"I agree, my love," Cas said sadly. "My poor, sweet darling. You've been through so much." He wrapped his arms around her and held her. He could feel her trembling.

Gail was shaking now, both from the ordeal she'd just been through and from anger over Paul's death. "Why didn't he kill ME, Cas?" she blurted out. "Or YOU?"

Riley gasped. It was almost as if Gail was saying that she would have preferred it that way. But Cas understood. If Lucifer had been smart, he would have killed Castiel. Because Castiel was never going to stop until he destroyed Lucifer. And Cas was going to stop at nothing to make sure that happened. Nothing was off limits any more.

Cas stood. "Let's go," he said wearily. "We'll leave for Egypt in the morning."

"I thought we would be going right away," Dean said, but Cas frowned at him. "Gail needs to rest from her ordeal, and she and I need to talk. We've waited over 3 months to go there; we can wait one more day."

"Three months?!" Gail exclaimed. Was that how long she had been gone?

"Yeah. It's been almost four, actually," Frank said. "It's the end of March. You missed spring training."

Gail sniffled back the tears, trying to smile. She and her brother were both baseball fans. When they'd spent all that time in motel rooms, during baseball season Frank had usually been able to find a game on TV in whatever city or town they happened to be, and he had taught her about the game, explaining the rules. Every spring, they would pick a team to root for, and then, they would see which of their teams had the most wins at the end of the season. That had been Frank's way of getting his sister interested in watching baseball to begin with, but then she had taken to the sport, and she loved it now.

Frank had said what he'd said to try to break the mood in the room, and to attempt to cheer his sister up a bit, if he could. He wasn't nearly as broken up about Paul's death as she was, but then again, Frank hadn't been in Paris for very long. Apparently, Paul had really bailed them out there. Cas and Sam and Dean were all looking really somber now, also. When Frank had met Paul in Romania, he had bailed their group out again at the castle, and he had saved Gail just now from being strangled by Lucifer, who'd been using Cas's hands. For a Demon, Paul had worn a white hat for the vast majority of the time that Frank had been aware of his existence. Though he'd started out on the wrong team. But as far as Frank was concerned, it wasn't where you started, it was where you finished that was important. Though it had been through no fault of his own, Frank had done some time as a Knight of Hell, so he would be one heck of a hypocrite if he didn't advocate second chances.

Gail stood now too, but she put her hand on Cas's arm. "We can't just leave him here," she told her husband.

Cas thought about that for a moment. Then he said, "I have an idea. Let me take care of it." He looked at their friends. "Can everyone please go back to the bunker?" Then he looked at his wife. "Please go with them, and I'll be there in just a minute," he said to her. She opened her mouth to protest, but he repeated, "Please." So she gave him a half-shrug, and then she took Frank and Jody's hands. The group of Angels and humans all began to wink out of the mansion, bit by bit. Cas supposed that the sigils had all lost their power, now that Lucifer was gone. He handed the candlesticks to Riley, who had hung back, with a concerned look on his face.

"Can I help, Castiel?" Riley asked him hesitantly.

Cas gave him a tight smile. He and his young protege had bonded while they'd been in Africa, and Cas had recognized Riley's great need to serve. He had been impressed by Riley's earnestness and devotion.

He put his hand on the young Angel's shoulder. "Yes, you can help me, Riley. Please return the candlesticks to their usual place in the library, and please make sure that Gail is all right until I return. I won't be long."

"I'll do that, Cas," Riley said in a hushed tone.

Then he winked out, and Cas stood there, all alone. He looked around the room. Now that everyone was gone, he took a moment for himself. When he and Lucifer had been speaking in the vestibule earlier, the Devil had taken Cas completely by surprise. Now Cas understood how every woman felt who had ever said that she had been violated by a man. Cas had opened his mouth to speak, and suddenly, Lucifer was forcing his essence down Cas's throat, and there had been nothing Cas could do about it. Then Lucifer had been in control of Cas's body, and Cas had been powerless to prevent it. They had entered the bedroom, and Cas had been so happy to see Gail alive and unharmed. But his heart had also been broken to see how roughly Lucifer had treated Gail, and the disgusting things he had said to her, using Cas's mouth to do it. But luckily, Gail knew her husband very well, and she'd known pretty much immediately that it wasn't him. That would hopefully make the healing easier, from her point of view. Fortunately, Lucifer had not had the chance to commit the ultimate violation, but Gail's body would be bruised and sore, and her psyche would be fragile. It was the Demon period all over again, only this time, it had actually happened. He had actually hurt her.

Cas was also concerned about what might have transpired between Lucifer and Gail mentally, and emotionally. Lucifer had held her captive here for several months, and they all knew how much he liked to play mind games. What sort of bad thoughts might he have tried to put into her head? How might he have played on her insecurities? When they'd first walked in the bedroom, both Castiel and Lucifer, Lucifer had said something to Gail about her still being angry with Cas about Africa, and she'd had a look on her face which had seemed to indicate that that was correct.

He sighed again. If Cas could take all of that back, he surely would. Well, maybe not all of it. He would still have helped the poor people there out, as best he could. He'd long felt as if that was what they should really be doing as Angels, not fighting, and killing. So he made no apologies for that particular aspect of their year away. But the milk of human kindness had turned sour, and his good intentions had turned to dust. Why did that always seem to happen with him?

And now, Paul had fallen, just when the Demon had seemingly reached the last metaphorical rung on the ladder to redemption. But, as they had been discussing before Gail had been taken, there was no actual, physical ladder to Heaven. Still, Paul's sacrifices had to count for something. They simply had to. Otherwise, what was the point?

Castiel bent down and picked Paul's vessel up in his arms, then winked out of the mansion.


	3. Handle With Care

Chapter 3 - Handle With Care

When Cas got back to the bunker, he was surprised to see all of them sitting around the library table, laughing and joking.

Riley had taken it upon himself to try to keep Gail's spirits up. He knew how precious Castiel's wife was to him, and Riley had felt badly for Gail, too. Imagine being held prisoner by the Devil for that long, being subjected to God only knew what? So when they had gotten back, Riley had looked at Gail and said, "Can I get you anything, Ma'am? I mean, Mrs. - Miss - oh, I don't know, what do women want to be called these days?"

His tone had been deliberate, of course. Riley had done a lot of growing up in the past year, and he wasn't early as awkward and shy as he'd been when he had first joined the group. Castiel had helped him in that regard, as well. But Riley had wanted to make Gail smile now, and he had noticed that she had a lot of empathy for people. She had even upbraided her own husband on Riley's behalf when she'd seen the young Angel stammer over his words in the past.

Sure enough, Gail had smiled. "Well, I can't speak for all women, of course, but I generally like to be called 'Gail'," she'd said to Riley, putting her hand on his arm. He'd been sitting beside her at the library table in Cas's usual seat, keeping Cas's place until he returned. "But I don't think you want to call all women 'Gail'," she continued with a smile. "It'd just get too confusing."

"She also answers to Mrs. Buzzkill, or Mrs. Kissyface," Frank piped up helpfully.

"Umm, no, I do not; you guys just insist on calling me that stuff anyway," she protested.

"It's your husband's fault, in a way, for not having a last name," Sam pointed out.

Gail considered this. "You know, I really can't fault your logic there. Hey, I wonder if Cas ever had a last name. I guess the first family to be on the Earth didn't really need one. I mean, how many listings could there be?"

"He's so old, his Social Security Number is 1," Sam quipped.

"Actually, I hate to say this, but it would be 2," Gail said, making a face. "As much as it pains me to admit it, Crowley would be Number 1. He's the eldest child. Although I'd really, really love it if he were Number Two, if you catch my drift."

"No, you're being too subtle," Frank joked. "I don't think any of us could possibly figure that code out."

Gail heaved a sigh of relief at finally being away from Lucifer, at a place she could call home. "You don't know how glad I am to be back."

Dean plunked a drink down in front of her. "Here. Drink this. Doctor's orders."

She looked up at him with a half-smile. "I don't know who your doctor is, but I approve of his or her methods," she said.

"So, who do you think's gonna win the pennant this year, Frank?" Bobby asked Gail's brother.

Then the discussion had taken off from there, and by the time Cas showed up, the teasing was in full swing.

"Just in time," Sam said to Cas. "We've started a baseball pool. Everybody's picking teams."

Cas was a little taken aback by this. He had expected a much more serious and somber mood. But he could see that Gail was having a drink with Dean and Frank, and she was smiling. "I saved you the Angels," Gail said to Cas now. "And it wasn't an easy negotiation, 'cause I'm pretty sure Riley wanted them, and maybe Chuck did, too." Riley had gotten up from Cas's usual chair the moment that Cas had made his appearance, prepared to vacate it. Gail pulled Cas's chair out for him with her foot, as Riley went to the chair on the other side, "Come on, sit down, sweetie. We have to get our teams all picked, for the beginning of the season."

Cas came over to sit beside her. He took her hand, and his eyes searched her face. Are you all right? he asked her non-verbally. Not really, she answered him in the same way, but we'll deal with it later. We're doing this right now.

"OK, so, Cas gets the Angels," Sam said, marking it down. "And Gail, you wanted the Blue Jays, right?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "Are you still beating that dead horse?" he asked his sister.

"No Canadian team is gonna beat us at our national pastime," Dean scoffed. "Never gonna happen."

"She used to root for them all the time," Frank said, smirking. "I told her the same thing. But she didn't care."

"Hey, I love a good underdog story, what can I say?" Gail remarked, shrugging. "And, the fact that you guys mock me for my choice only makes it more attractive to me. Let the side bets commence." She looked at Dean. "Nicole's Canadian, and so are Barry and Tommy. Maybe I'll form a cult. I'll buy us all blue and white pom-poms, and we can work on some cheers."

"Oh, great. Now she's got us being cheerleaders. Nothing stereotypical about that," Barry said with a smile, nudging Tommy.

"Since I'm the convener, I get next pick," Sam announced. "So I'm picking the Cardinals."

"Why?" Frank asked him, curious.

"I don't know," Sam said casually. "They're a midwestern team, with a rich baseball history."

"So it wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that USA Today predicted they might win the World Series this year?" Jody said sharply. Sam looked at her, startled. "I read too, Sam," she added, smirking.

"I pick the Nationals," Dean said suddenly.

"Who says you get to pick next?" Frank protested.

"I'm the convener's brother," Dean shot back.

"Name me three duties of a convener, and you can go next," Frank retorted. "In fact, if you can define 'convener', I'll let it go."

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "Shut up, Frank," he said. "Give me the Nationals, Sammy. They're from our nation's capital, and their mascots are former Presidents." He looked at Gail. "You know, American Presidents. Beer, hot dogs, Stars and Stripes? The Star-Spangled Banner? Any of this ringing a bell?"

Gail stuck her tongue out at him. "You know, this is why people in other countries don't like Americans. They act like they own everything," she said pertly.

"Don't you mean, WE act like we own everything?" Sam said with a grin. "Aren't you an American, too?"

Gail sat back in her chair, startled. "You know what, Sam? That's an excellent question. We don't really know that for a fact, do we? I could have been born anywhere. Maybe I'm not an American. I could be from some exotic country." She looked at Cas, smiling. "What country do you think I look like I'm from?" she asked him.

Cas was leery now. It was almost as though she was trying too hard. She had just been through a very traumatic ordeal, on the heels of another, very lengthy, ordeal. The longer she attempted to pretend otherwise, the worse it would be when she finally acknowledged her feelings. But for now, he would play along. "I think you must be from Disneyland," Cas told her. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. "Isn't that the happiest place on Earth?"

Dean rolled his eyes. Obviously, Cas hadn't spent that much time with her recently. His Angel friend had better not piss her off, or he might just find out that she wasn't always so happy any more, these days.

Gail noticed Dean's expression, and she gave him an eyebrow raise. But then he stuck his tongue out at her, like she always did with him, and it was so funny and so unexpected that she laughed. Crisis averted, at least for the moment. But that was another elephant that would have to be dealt with at some point.

"Give me the Marlins," Frank piped up.

"The Marlins?" Sam repeated, surprised.

Frank smirked. "Yeah. I wanted to pick the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, but I didn't want to make Cas mad."

Everyone laughed, but Jody was shaking her head. "Actually, you're behind the times," she told her husband. "They took the 'Devil' out. They're only the Rays, now."

"We should phone whoever it was who did that for some hints," Chuck quipped.

Frank was looking sidelong at his wife now. "First, you blast a door open with a shotgun. Now, you're talking like an ESPN reporter. If you tell me you just bought a beer store, I'm gonna have to make out with you right here, right now, in front of everyone." He smirked. "Everybody else can turn their heads, but we'll make Cas and Gail look."

"Ewwww," Gail said, making a face.

"It's called revenge, kiddo," Frank said, nudging her.

Jody was smiling now, too. "Dibs on the Yankees," she said to Sam.

"Oh, no," Sam remarked, shaking his head slowly. "Jody's gone over to the dark side."

Jody shrugged. "Sorry, but I read the same article you did, Sam, and they're picking the Yankees for the American League."

Sam shook his head again, smiling, but he marked it down.

"Give me the Orioles," Bobby said. "Cal Ripken. Earl Weaver. Classic baseball men."

"Who?" Riley asked Bobby.

Bobby considered. OK, he supposed it was fair enough that the young Angel wouldn't know who Earl Weaver was, but..."Cal Ripken? The Iron Man?" he said incredulously. Riley looked at him blankly. Bobby shook his head. "Look it up on your Google," he said disgustedly.

"I want the Cubs," Chuck said.

Sam smirked. "Really? The Cubbies?"

"Yeah. Lovable losers, just like me. But they finally won it all, didn't they?" Chuck replied affably.

"Yeah, after, like, a hundred years," Dean scoffed.

"Well, Dean; like me, they're a work in progress," Chuck said. "The point is, they persevered, and they finally won. I think this year in particular, the sentiment's pretty appropriate."

Sam gave Chuck a nod of his head in acknowledgement. He couldn't argue with that.

"Give me the Minnesota Twins," Tommy said. "They're underdogs, too."

"We'll form an underdogs club," Chuck smiled. He looked warmly at Gail, and she smiled back.

"And I'll take the Royals," Barry said to Sam.

"Why?" Chuck asked him.

"Because Gail's already got the only Canadian team, and we're in Kansas right now," Barry replied, shrugging.

"Umm...Kansas City is in Missouri," Sam informed him. "We're in Kansas. Wrong state."

Barry shrugged again. "Oh, well. Truthfully, I don't really care about sports. I just picked a team I'd heard of, just to play along." He looked at Rob. The boy had been sitting around the table with the group ever since they'd brought Gail back to the bunker. Rob had hugged her wordlessly, but he'd hung around, instead of retreating immediately to his room, as he normally would have done. Frank had considered that a positive sign, even though the boy hadn't spoken a word since Cas had shown up.

"Who are you picking, Rob?" Barry asked him.

Predictably enough, Rob also shrugged. But to everyone's surprise, he said, "I have to go with the Red Sox."

Frank looked sharply at the boy. Rob was expressionless, but just the fact that he had contributed anything to the conversation gave Frank hope that his son could still be reached.

"I'll take the Indians," Kevin said, grinning. "I'm a minority too, so I know how they feel."

"Yeah, I guess there are more humans here than Angels, now," Bobby quipped. Everyone laughed, and Bobby smiled, pleased with himself. Certainly not the wittiest joke in the world, but it was nice to hear them all laugh like that.

"Can I have the Brewers?" Riley asked Sam. "We seem to be a little heavy on the American League."

"Riley, I'm impressed," Gail said to the young Angel. "You know baseball?"

He smiled. "Sort of. My Dad was a fan. He was teaching me about the game when I - you know..."

"Then you and I are in the same boat," Cas said to him. "Maybe we can go to a game together in the future, and Gail can instruct us on the fine points of the sport."

"I'd like that," Riley said with a big smile.

Kevin nudged his fellow Angel. "Hey, we should take the Phillies for Ethan," he said.

"Yeah, mark him down. I'm sure he'd like to get in on this. And he lived in Philadelphia with his family. He's probably a fan already," Chuck said.

"OK, got it," Sam said, jotting it down. He looked up. "Is that everyone?"

Gail thought about Becky for a moment, but she didn't mention anything out loud. The young Angel had gone immediately back up to Heaven when they'd gotten back from Africa, and no one in their group seemed particularly close to her, anyway. Becky was a bit of a tough one to figure out. Because of what had happened between her and Kevin, and the way that everyone in their circle knew that she felt about Sam, it was a little difficult to have Becky just hanging around the bunker, as some of the others did. Maybe something would have to be done about Becky at a future time, but at the moment, they had many other things to think about that had to take precedence.

"OK, so I guess we'll be leaving for Egypt in the morning, Cas?" Sam asked their friend.

"Yes," Cas said. "Besides yourself and Dean, I would like Kevin to come." He looked at Kevin. "Can you bring the concordance you've been working on? I want to see if these so-called sacred writings are in the ancient language. If you and Sam can help in that regard, we will speak with Metatron to see if there are any clues as to the location of Lucifer's blade."

"I had an idea," Riley piped up. "How about if we take pictures of the Tablets and put those on Sam's computer? Then, if you need to read anything on them while you're over there, you can just use your zoom feature to make the writing bigger."

Cas looked at him, impressed. He hadn't thought about doing that. It was a much better idea than trying to make out the markings on his tiny cell phone screen.

"Thank you, Riley, that would be a great help," Cas said. He was looking at Riley as he reached over beside him to take Gail's hand. But because Cas wasn't looking at her, he accidentally closed his hand around her wrist instead, where the bruises and abrasions from Lucifer's handcuffs were.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, jerking her hand away. Cas turned to look at her, and she suddenly burst into tears.

Cas had expected to see this, and he was almost relieved. She had been suppressing her feelings. "Gail and I are going to go home now and talk," Cas announced in a soft voice. "We'll be back in the morning." He took her hands in his and winked them out immediately.

After Gail's shower, she came into the bedroom to find Cas sitting up in bed, propped up against the pillows. "Please come here," he said, opening up his arms.

She went to him and he took her in his arms. "I'm so tired of crying, Cas." she told him, clinging tightly to him.

"I know, my love," he said quietly. "I know."

But she was crying now, anyway. "What was the point of all of that, Cas?" she wailed. "He didn't kill you, he didn't kill me, he only killed Paul! He could have snapped his fingers and killed the whole lot of us. Why didn't he, Cas? He knows how close we are to putting him away! Yet we were all standing right there, and he didn't kill any of US, just Paul! What kind of sense does that make, Cas?"

Cas continued to hold her, but he was frowning. He'd been wondering that same thing, too. She was right; it made absolutely no sense. But then again, this was Lucifer. From everything Castiel had seen, when it came to Lucifer, no sense made sense.

Once Gail had calmed down a bit, Cas asked her about her time as a captive. He marvelled at her courage in defying Lucifer face to face. "He told me he was sending you clues about the compound's whereabouts," Gail said to him.

Cas made a face. "In a manner of speaking," he remarked. "Thank goodness for all of our friends." He held her quietly for a little longer, and then he said, "Are you angry with me, Gail?"

She came out of the embrace. "Why do you ask?" she said guardedly.

Cas sighed. "So you are, then."

Gail was uncomfortable. "I don't know, Cas. Maybe I am."

"Well then, we should talk about that," he said soberly. "Please, tell me how you feel."

She thought for a moment. "It just seems like... She stopped, then tried again. "It just seems like everything comes so easily for you," Gail told him. "When we were in Egypt, you were in the palace, and I was dealing with the plagues. When we were in Paris, you were 'the man', and I was really no better than a slave to those people." Cas opened his mouth, but Gail put her hand up. "No, Cas. You asked, so please, let me finish." She sighed, and her eyes started to pool with tears again. "Then, I spent the year from hell, fighting and killing, only to go to Africa and find out that you're living in the royal palace again! Sometimes, it feels like you only want to be married to me when it doesn't cramp your style!"

Gail's hands flew to her mouth, but it was already out. Had she really said that? And, more importantly, had she really meant it? She could see the hurt in his eyes, but she'd said it now, and she wasn't going to back down from it. A part of her apparently really did feel that way.

Cas's first impulse had been to lash out defensively. But he made himself take a beat and look at things from her point of view. The facts she'd stated were true, although the conclusion she'd reached was entirely off the mark. Still, he tried to remain calm. "I don't..." No. That wouldn't be right. He tried again: "You are my whole life, Gail. If I didn't have you, I would rather be dead." He reached out and touched the marks on her neck with his fingertips, and he took her hands in his, regarding the bruises and abrasions on her arms.

"When we thought I was the Demon and that I had done all those things to you, I used to sit in my apartment in Vancouver every night with our picture in one hand and my blade in the other," he confessed to her. "I don't think I ever told you that, did I?"

Gail was astonished. "No, you never told me that, Cas," she said quietly.

"If you hadn't come back to me, I would be sitting in the Netherworld all alone right now, leading a pointless existence, for all eternity," Cas told her grimly.

"Why are you telling me this now, Cas?" she asked him curiously.

His lips were pursed. "I should think that would be obvious. You told me you feel as if I only want to be married to you when it suits me. I'm attempting to assure you that is simply not the case."

Gail continued to look at him. "Thanks, Castiel, for that logical analysis. Do you think we could get Cas to weigh in on the subject?" she added wryly.

He regarded her for another moment, and then he hung his head. She was right. In his agitation, he had reverted to AngelSpeak. But Gail was his wife, and she deserved a better answer.

He looked at her again. "This is your husband, Cas, speaking," he said charmingly. She waited. Then he sighed. Clearly, charm wasn't going to cut it in this situation. He still held her hands in his, and he gave them a gentle squeeze, then caressed the backs of her hands with his thumbs.

"All of my life, I've been alone," Cas told her softly. "First, I was but a humble shepherd, roving the land with my flock. My parents loved me, as did God the Father, but I was a solitary figure, even back then. And I've been one, ever since. All those years in Heaven, I never felt like I really belonged. I tried to make the best of it and do my duty, but I knew, deep down inside, that I was always meant for another kind of life. And I guess Father knew that, too. Or He sensed how desperately unhappy I was, because He kept on trying to figure out what to do with me. I think that was why he kept sending me here to Earth. Trying out different types of lives on me, as you would try on some clothes. And now, we know that He's been doing the same thing with you. Yet for some reason, things have never worked out for us, in any of those incarnations. I thought that we had finally broken the curse when we got to the New World together, but apparently, it just took a little while longer for it to take effect. But at least that time, I didn't abdicate my responsibility. At least, even though I knew I would be unable to save you, I didn't save myself." Cas sighed again. "I think I need to re-learn that lesson. I think I need to remember that I'm not that solitary figure any more. You entered into the sacred bond with me. On purpose." This time she did smile, and he let go of one of her hands to cup her face with his palm.

"I don't remember what happened when we got to the New World," Gail said, her forehead wrinkling.

"That just proves that our Father can indeed be merciful, sometimes," Cas said sadly. He could already feel the heavy weight from his past on his chest, just to add to the weight of guilt he already had there. "I need to go back, Gail. You're absolutely right. I've been taking the easy path. I need to see what it was like to do the right thing, and not the easy thing." Now his chest was heaving. Soon his air was going to be cut off altogether.

"OK, Cas. Let's go, then. I need to see," Gail said.

"Are you sure, my darling?" Cas said, concerned. "After all you've been through? I don't want you to suffer any more."

She laughed shortly. "Well, unless we're going to be reincarnated as a couple of deer, grazing in the forest, I can't see that happening any time soon."

"And even if we were those deer, we would probably be Bambi," Cas said dryly.

Gail shook her head slowly. "I almost wish Frank had been there to hear that. He would've thought it was funny. I knew we shouldn't have let you watch that movie." Then she sighed. "OK, Cas. I'm ready when you are."

"I love you very much," he told her. "I'm hoping you'll be reminded that I did once do the right thing by you, and I'm hoping that once you see me do so again, you'll know that I mean what I say. Please put your hand on my forehead."

Gail did, and then he put his hand on hers, and then they were Priscilla and John again.

VIGNETTE - WITCH HUNT

John was stoking the fire as Priscilla brought an extra blanket over to the settee in front of the fireplace. This was the first full winter they had spent in the Colony, and it was proving a little difficult to get used to. Somehow, the winters seemed harsher here. She and John were no strangers to snow, but life here in Massachusetts was bleak at the best of times, making it seem much colder.

John came back to where she was sitting and got under the blankets with his wife. He put his arms around her, cuddling her to him. At least they had each other for warmth, and for love. Many others in the settlement were having their families torn asunder, from what they had heard.

Priscilla was silent, lost in thought. She had been so eager to get to America and start a new life. Well, it was new here, all right. And about a thousand times worse. At first, she'd been encouraged by the fact that the settlers were religious, moral people. So were she and John. Despite the way they had behaved on the voyage here, they still considered themselves to be upstanding people. They'd reasoned that they had always been meant to be together anyway, and they'd planned on being married as soon as they got to the New World. So, if they had accelerated their romantic relationship before the vows had actually been exchanged, so what? Who had they been hurting?

And it was a moot point now, anyway. They had been married by the Reverend Mathers as soon as they'd reached the settlement, and now they had a tiny house just beyond the town limits. They were very happy just keeping house together, and they didn't feel the need to socialize with the townspeople. At first, they were able to explain away their behaviour because they were newlyweds. But then, earlier tonight, the Reverend had knocked on their door, asking John why the couple did not attend the church services in the town square.

"What do you mean?" John said, puzzled. "We attend every Sunday morning."

"Yes, but we have daily services now, Brother Alden," the Reverend said, frowning. He didn't speak to Priscilla, of course, or even look at her, even though she was standing right beside John.

Now John was frowning, too. He disliked being referred to as "Brother" by someone who was not related to him, and especially not by this man. Reverend Mathers was the only man of the cloth the Colony had, but he was a puffed-up individual with an inflated sense of self-importance. Lately, Reverend Mathers had taken it upon himself to put his Puritan beliefs in writing, and he'd been making increasingly more outrageous statements in his Sunday sermons. John and Priscilla had heard, of course, that the Reverend was holding daily services now, but they had discussed the subject with each other, and they had elected to ignore that knowledge. Surely, God did not require daily attendance as proof of their devotion to Him.

"I am aware that there are OPTIONAL services every day," John said irritably, emphasizing the word. "But my wife and I are newlyweds, and..."

"You WERE newlyweds, when you first got here," Reverend Mathers said imperiously. "Surely you are not meaning to suggest that your...time together is more important than your devotion to God. After all, it was He who joined you in matrimony in the first place, through my blessing."

John glared at him. As if they needed this prig's blessing to be together.

"We're not suggesting that at all," Priscilla said. She had moved forward now to put her hand on John's arm. Her husband was struggling to hold on to his temper now, she knew. "But we discussed it, and we don't believe that God is as worried about attendance as He is about the way we live our lives," she said in a calm, reasonable tone.

"Is that how you feel, Brother Alden?" the Reverend said coolly. His eyes had not even shifted to Priscilla when she'd been speaking.

Priscilla could feel her husband tense under her hand. "I am not your brother, and my wife is a person in her own right," he said in a quiet voice.

"Yes, but you are the husband, and as the head of the household, you speak for your wife," the Reverend replied.

Now John's lips twitched. "Clearly, you have not been listening at our door when Priscilla and I have a disagreement," he said, with some humour. "For I have frequently found that it works the other way around."

The Reverend was puzzled. Was Brother Alden joking? He must be. But the Reverend didn't see the humour. "Well, whatever the case may be, I must insist that the both of you attend our daily devotions," he said stiffly.

John stepped forward, leaning close to the man. "And if we do not?"

"As I have said in my writings, the evil influence is all around," the Reverend responded pompously. "We must be constantly vigilant."

"Evil influence?" Priscilla said curiously. "What evil influence?"

"Kindly remind your wife that if you deny the existence of evil, you deny the existence of God," Mathers said to John. "A dozen or so of the females in town have been dabbling in witchcraft and have been arrested as a result. I trust I will see the both of you at tomorrow's service. Good day, Brother Alden."

The Reverend turned on his heel and walked away. John slammed the door shut, and he stood there for a moment, shaking with rage.

"I think HE'S the evil influence," Priscilla quipped nervously.

John relaxed. He turned to his wife and put his arms around her, smiling. "I think you're right," he told her, kissing her softly on the lips. "So what do you think, Mrs. Alden? Do we capitulate?"

"I don't know, Mr. Alden," she said teasingly. "Don't you speak for the both of us, as the Lord and Master of the household?"

His arms tightened around her. "I'm the Lord and Master of nothing," he told her affably.

"Incorrect," Priscilla said pertly. "You're the Lord and Master of my heart."

John's smile widened. "Well, that's all the Mastering I need."

"Good, 'cause that's all you're going to have," she retorted happily. "Now please build us a fire, so we can cuddle in front of it and talk."

"Gladly, Mrs. Alden," he had said, and he had hurried to do as she'd requested.

So now they were sitting on the settee in front of the fire, and Priscilla was looking thoughtful. "I didn't like that comment he made about all those women being arrested for witchcraft," she mused aloud.

"Nor did I," John agreed. "I've been hearing rumours in town about some kind of malaise that's supposed to have affected a few of the young women in our settlement, but the reports have been very vague. Perhaps the Reverend is holding daily devotions for them. I would like to give him the benefit of the doubt, but it is difficult to be civil to the man when he will not even speak to you directly, my love. I know what the attitudes are like in our society, but it maddens me, nonetheless."

"Me too," Priscilla said, nodding. "He married the two of us, so it's not like he doesn't know who I am. Maybe you need to introduce me to him again."

"I'd like to introduce my fist to his face," John groused, and Priscilla laughed merrily. "You're seldom sexier than when you're taking up for me," she told him, kissing him softly on the cheek.

John smiled. He kissed her on the mouth, opening her lips with his tongue. "But what you just said implies I could be sexier," he said lightly. His hand moved under the blankets, and Priscilla gasped. "Clearly, I was mistaken," she said, her breath becoming ragged as his hand continued to move. She cried out his name, clinging to him, and a minute later, he threw the blankets off of them and climbed on top of her.

Half an hour later, the fire was out, but neither of them had even noticed. John was on his knees in front of his wife, and she was holding his head, clutching at his hair. Once she had calmed down a bit, she smiled down at him. "The fire has gone out, John," Priscilla told him. "The soup will be cold."

He rose and sat beside her, covering them both with the blankets again. "I don't care," John said, smiling gently. "I can always re-ignite the fire." He kissed her on the lips, absently caressing her skin.

"You're doing that right now," Priscilla said, smiling mischievously. But then, her smile faded. "John, do you ever get the feeling that we don't belong here, somehow?"

His hand stopped. He knew what she meant, of course. Whenever they went into town together, it was as if they were two discordant splashes of colour on an otherwise black and white canvas. They were the only couple who held hands as they walked. And when they sat waiting for the Reverend to begin the service, they sat close together, talking quietly. Sometimes he would say something that made her laugh out loud, and then she would cover her mouth with her hand as everyone looked at them with disapproval. The other couples sat stiffly upright in the pews, not even looking at each other.

John sighed. "Maybe so. But I feel sorry for them, my love. Life is hard enough without taking the time to enjoy the little things. I don't want us to ever change."

Priscilla smiled again. "Good, because I don't want to change, either. I like the way we are. I just wonder sometimes if we're normal."

John had started to caress her again, and he gave a half-shrug. "What is normal, anyway? Perhaps it's us who are normal. Are you happy, Priscilla?"

"Yes, of course I am," she told him. And if he kept on touching her like that, she was going to be even happier in a few minutes, Priscilla thought with humour.

"As am I," John responded. "Ecstatically, blissfully, besottedly happy. So let's not worry about what others think. What do you say?"

"I say I love you, John." Her hand slipped down, and she started to stroke him. "And as long as you love me, none of that other stuff matters."

"I agree," he said, but that was about all he could say right now. The feeling of what she was doing to him was too exquisite. Then she lifted the blanket and lowered her mouth to him, and John moaned. Their religious leaders would say that what she was doing right now was wrong, and a Sin, but that made no sense to John. He and Priscilla expressed their love for each other in many different ways, and they were all wonderful. And it was no one's business, anyway.

"My darling!" he cried out, lifting his body up to meet her mouth. She took him in, and a moment later, he was making inarticulate sounds of pleasure.

They cuddled for another few minutes, and then John rebuilt the fire as Priscilla stirred the soup and prepared bread and cheese. Then they moved to the table and ate, talking some more about the Reverend Mathers and his visit. They decided that attending services once a week was quite enough. They didn't need to congregate in a building with a bunch of self-righteous people to prove their devotion to their Father. Their love for each other was proof enough of that.

John sopped up the remainder of his soup with a piece of bread. He ate most of the bread, and then he reached out and brought Priscilla's face towards his. Unlike every other couple they'd seen, John and Priscilla favoured sitting on the same side of the table as each other, rather than on opposite sides. John could never see why a husband and wife would want to sit with a table between them. Then it would be a lot harder to do what he was doing now. He fed her the remainder of his piece of bread, and after she chewed and swallowed it, Priscilla licked his fingers. That did such things to him that he took her to bed immediately.

In the morning, John shuffled out of the bedroom to start the fire for breakfast, running his hand through his hair. He could just imagine how he must look. He'd better run a comb through it and try to look respectable before he went to town. He already got a lot of peculiar looks from people because he walked around smiling all the time.

Suddenly, there was a pounding at the front door. John rushed to answer it. Hopefully, whoever it was had not woken Priscilla.

There were two townsmen at his door, and they were looking at him, frowning. "Do you always answer your door half-naked?" one of them said with disdain. John looked down at himself. He had come out here bare-chested to light the fire, and then he'd rushed to answer the door.

"And what's with your hair?" Brother Winchester said with a half-smirk. "Did you misplace your comb?"

John nodded to himself. So it was as bad as he'd thought. But, considering what he and Priscilla had been doing just a short while ago, it wasn't particularly surprising. Well, maybe not so much what they had been doing as the way they'd been doing it. John smiled. The church leaders would definitely not have approved, but John couldn't think of a single thing wrong with it. And based on Priscilla's cries of delight, he was sure she would say the same.

"What do you men want?" John said quietly. "My wife is resting."

But she wasn't, apparently, for he heard her voice behind him. "What is it, John? What's going on?" Priscilla had woken from a doze and she'd heard the voices, so she'd thrown on John's shirt and come out to see what was going on. John was quite a bit taller than she was, so his shirt was more than long enough to cover her modestly. She often wore it in the mornings, when they first got up. Sometimes she would keep it on when he had to go to town because it smelled of him, and that made her happy. But perhaps she should have taken the time to dress properly. The way the townsmen were looking at her now, she might as well have been parading around naked.

Naturally, the townsmen looked at John again when they answered the question, as if it had been him who had asked it.

"What's going on?" Brother Leacock said to John. "What's going on is that Reverend Mathers came to see you yesterday about the services, and when you didn't show up today, he sent us here to talk to you about that."

"He sent you here to - " Then it dawned on John what the man was really saying. "You're here to intimidate me, aren't you? And if we still refuse to go? Then what?"

Brother Winchester looked uncomfortable, but Brother Leacock regarded John evenly. "What do YOU think?" he asked.

"You've got to be kidding us with this!" Priscilla exclaimed. "Since when does God send bullies to your door to compel your devotion?"

Dean stole a glance at her. He wished she'd put some clothes on. His own wife put on fifteen layers of clothing just to come to bed every night, and many times, by the time he'd gotten down to the last couple of layers, she'd already fallen asleep. Brother Alden was a lucky man. One look at his hair and it didn't take a genius to figure out what the Aldens had been up to this morning. Truth be told, if Brother Winchester could ever get the mummy wrapping off his wife, he would much prefer to be home doing that too, rather than walking to church in the cold and the snow every morning. But being a Deacon had its responsibilities, and this couple had to be shown the error of their ways before it was too late.

"Goodwife Alden, it's more important now than ever to attend the services," Dean told Priscilla. "We have to stick together, to fight against evil. Just last night, my wife's sister and her child were arrested for witchcraft."

"Her child?" Priscilla said, startled. "How old?"

"Fifteen," Brother Leacock remarked, tight=lipped. "Hardly a child. Certainly, she is old enough to know better."

"Better than what?" John asked sharply. "Just what are these females alleged to have done?"

"Witchcraft," Leacock said shortly. "They didn't attend yesterday morning's services, either."

"Well, to be fair, my sister-in-law did tell my wife that they were both feeling ill," Brother Winchester said to him.

Brother Leacock shrugged. "Well, they can both be ill in jail, now. I have a persistent cough, yet I attend services every day, and you don't hear me complaining." He looked at John. "If you and your wife do not attend tomorrow, we will be back, and we will not be nearly as pleasant." He turned to walk away, and then he turned back. "Are you coming, Brother Winchester?"

"In a minute," Dean replied. "I'd like to talk to these two a bit longer. Maybe they can be persuaded, instead of strong-armed."

Brother Leacock snorted with derision. Winchester was wasting his time. But, it was his time to waste. He turned back around and walked away.

Dean smirked. "Doesn't complain? Brother Leacock complains all the time, to anyone who'll listen. And it's hard to keep a straight face. I mean, the guy's name is Leacock. Come on. How funny is that?"

Priscilla burst out laughing. "Would you like to come in for a hot cup of tea, or a bite of breakfast?" she asked him. "My husband was about to light the fire."

"I will if you put some clothes on," Dean said to her, still smirking. "I'd like to look at you when I'm talking to you, but I don't want your husband to punch me out if I do."

Priscilla looked at John, smiling. "I'll be back in a minute," she said to him. "Please invite our guest in."

John let Dean into the house, and the men started the fire together. John put the pot on to boil the water. "We have some leftover soup," he told Dean. "Would you like me to warm it up?"

Dean grinned. "So, your wife has you doing domestic chores too, does she? I thought I was the only one."

John looked at him. Then he sighed. "I don't know why food preparation is considered solely the woman's job. I like to cook. Priscilla and I do everything together, as a team. It makes us happy to be that way."

Priscilla came out of the bedroom, fully dressed. She handed John his shirt, and he put it on.

"Thanks," Dean said to her, grinning again. Priscilla sat down at the table across from him. She was regarding him curiously. "What?" he said.

"I think you're the first man I've met here that has talked directly to me, instead of just addressing my husband," she said to him.

Dean made a face. "Yeah, I'm not really on board with that whole 'women are invisible' thing," he told her. "But right now, we've got bigger problems."

"You mean this supposed witchcraft business?" John said, frowning. He put a cup of tea in front of Dean and his wife, then prepared one for himself and sat down beside Priscilla. "What are these females alleged to be doing?"

Dean took a sip of his tea. "To tell you the truth, it's pretty unclear. There's supposed to be a trial in a few days. I guess we'll find out then, Brother Alden."

Priscilla put her hand on her husband's arm, but to her surprise, he didn't seem angry.

And he wasn't. There was just something about Dean that disarmed John. He was the first man that John had talked to here in the Colony who acted as if he was a human being, and not just a mindless puppet of Reverend Mathers'. And he was also the first man who had deigned to speak directly with Priscilla. So when Dean had called him "Brother", John had found that he didn't really mind. He took Priscilla's hand in both of his, smiling gently at her.

Dean was looking curiously at the couple. They were certainly different than every other couple in town, but he didn't see anything that weird about them, either. Reverend Mathers had been broadly hinting around that there was something wrong with the Aldens. Why else would they be so stubbornly refusing to attend his daily services? But Dean didn't see any severed goats' heads or false idols here, just a man and a woman who appeared to be very happily exercising the rights that their blessed union afforded them. Good for them.

"Look, I'm not here to tell you both how to live your lives," Dean said to them, sighing. "But the good Reverend is on the warpath, and he doesn't like it when people don't conform."

"We do not exist to serve him, we exist to serve God," John said sharply. He gave Priscilla's hand a squeeze. "And each other," he told her with a smile.

"That may be, but lately, a lot of people with that attitude seem to be finding themselves in jail," Dean said bluntly. "I'm just saying."

John's expression grew dark, and he let go of his wife's hand. "Are you threatening us?"

"No," Dean replied. "No. I'm just trying to warn you. My sister-in-law might be a bit of a pain, but she and her daughter aren't witches, either. Yet they'll be going on trial soon for witchcraft, and Devil worship, and Lord only knows what else. Look, John, I'd rather be home in bed with my wife too, but I don't want to go to jail, either. And I'm sure you wouldn't want Priscilla subjected to an arrest. There's been talk of the death penalty." He rose. "Once again, I'm not threatening you, just warning you. Thanks for the tea."

Once Dean left, the Aldens looked at each other. "I like him, John," Priscilla said to her husband. "He's the first person we've met here who seems capable of independent thought."

He nodded. "I agree. But now, I'm thinking that we should consider capitulating, at least until the current hysteria passes."

Patricia frowned. "Maybe you're right. I don't want to go to jail, John."

"I would never let that happen," he told her, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. "Now, would you like to have breakfast, or would you like to go back to bed for a while?"

She smiled. "What do you think?" she said teasingly.

John put his arms around her and drew her to him. "I think you're going to be very hungry in about an hour or so," he said, matching her tone. He kissed her on the mouth, using his tongue.

She brought his head down to her neck, undoing the first couple of buttons on her blouse. He kissed her there as she ran her fingers through his hair. Then Priscilla giggled. "I guess we'd better make sure your hair is combed before we go to church. Otherwise, they'll arrest you for looking like a wild man."

"I'm wild about you, if that counts," John said with a smile. He already had her blouse unbuttoned, and he was lifting her skirt now.

"If you keep that up, we'll be arrested for indecent behaviour," Priscilla said. But she had already opened her legs, and now, she was unbuttoning his flies.

"Maybe if those old fuddy-duddys would spend more time making love and less time judging others, the Colony would be a happier place," John grumbled, and Priscilla laughed. She completely agreed.

"Take me to bed, my husband," she said softly, and he took her hand.

The next day, the Aldens dressed in their Sunday best and walked into town, hand in hand. Everyone was gathering in the town square outside the church. Dean spotted them in the crowd, and he was glad to see the couple. He'd been worried that they might decide not to come.

Reverend Mathers was circulating among the parishioners, and he stopped short when he saw the Aldens. He was frankly surprised to see them. When his Deacons had made the report to him, it had seemed very doubtful whether they would be attending the service, or not. Perhaps he'd been wrong about Brother Alden after all.

The Reverend walked up to John and extended his hand. "I'm glad to see you here today, Brother Alden," he said heartily.

John looked down at the man's hand, but he did not take it. "I just want you to know that the only reason we're here today is because we felt intimidated into coming," John said coolly.

The Reverend frowned. "I don't know why you would feel that way," he said imperiously.

"Really? You don't?" John said, his voice rising.

"No. I truly don't," Mathers replied calmly. "And the fact that you seem so upset over a simple church service leads me to wonder what you might have to hide."

"That's ridiculous," John snapped. "Devotion is one thing, but religious extremism is quite another."

"Extremism?!" the Reverend exclaimed, and now, his voice was rising, too. Everyone was starting to look in their direction. "If you consider going to church extremism, then perhaps you are on the wrong side of the equasion. Lust is one of the Seven Deadly Sins, you know."

John let go of Priscilla's hand, for fear he would squeeze it too tightly in his anger. "So is Pride," he said, tight-lipped. "You might want to take a look in the mirror, Mathers."

"John..." Priscilla said warningly, but he said, "No, Priscilla. No. I'm tired of being judged by these people. Just because I like to have sex with my wife doesn't mean I worship the Devil." The crowd gasped, but he continued, "In fact, I think we'll go home and make love right now. We may even dance naked around the fire and sacrifice a chicken for dinner, afterwards."

Dean laughed, but as heads swiveled to look at him, he turned it into a cough. Still, that had been damned funny. He realized he really liked John.

"So, you admit it!" Reverend Mathers thundered. His face was red now. How dare this man say such outrageous things to him, in public? Who did he think he was?

Priscilla grabbed John's arm now, panicked. "He's only joking, Reverend," she said nervously. "My husband's temper runs away with his tongue sometimes. I'll have a talk with him about it."

"YOU'LL have a talk with HIM?" the Reverend said, puzzled. "I think it is you who is the problem, Mrs. Alden. My Deacon, Brother Leacock, told me that you came to the door of your house in an unclothed state, expressing a resistance to go to these very same services."

Now she was the one to lose her temper. "The last time I looked, I was entitled to walk around my own house in whatever state of dress, or undress, I choose," she said tartly. "And we're only resistant to attending church when we're being blackmailed into it."

"Leacock! Winchester!" the Reverend bellowed. "Seize these two and take them to jail! They will stand trial for witchcraft and Demon worship, along with the others!"

Brother Leacock came forward and grabbed Priscilla by the arms, but Brother Winchester protested, "What for?" he said, puzzled. "Because Brother Alden made a joke? Or, because they are defying you?"

Mathers glared at him. "Your in-laws are already under indictment, Brother Winchester. We could try for your entire family, if you'd like."

Dean's blood ran cold. He and his wife had a daughter who was nine years old, and two five-year-old boys, twins. He would sooner die than to see them subjected to that. And Mathers would do it, too. There were rumours that he had even imprisoned a couple of infants. Dean moved forward to grab John. "I'm sorry," he apologized in a low voice. "I have a family."

"So do I," John said through gritted teeth. "At least let my wife go. I am the one who made the comments, not her."

"She operates under your authority," Reverend Mathers said loudly.

"Once again, you have clearly not spent a lot of time with my wife," John said, and Priscilla laughed. But Leacock had her by the arms, so she couldn't put a hand over her mouth to stop it from coming out.

"Let the record reflect that the witch laughed when confronted with the accusations," the Reverend pontificated.

Now there was a murmur working its way throughout the crowd. The townspeople were well aware that wasn't the truth; they'd been standing right here, watching the drama unfold. But they were all afraid to speak up, lest they or their families be the next to be accused.

"Oww! You don't have to put bruises on my arm!" Priscilla protested, as Deacon Leacock gripped her more firmly.

"Oops. I guess you were stronger than I thought you were," Dean said in John's ear, and John felt Dean's hold on him relax. John stepped forward and punched Leacock full in the face. The man let go of Priscilla and fell to the ground.

Dean was working his jaw, trying not to grin. That had been a damned good shot. But the good Reverend was looking positively murderous now, so Dean bit the insides of his cheeks and grabbed John again.

John was enraged. "You're next!" he yelled at Reverend Mathers. "I'll attack anyone who tries to hurt my wife!"

"The penalty for assaulting a church official is death," the Reverend said coldly. "I'll see you at the trial." He looked at the townspeople. "Let this be a lesson to all of you. If you are not on the side of God, you are on the side of Satan." He started to move towards the church, and everyone fell in behind him as the Aldens were hustled off to jail.

John was miserable. He and Priscilla had been separated for two whole days, waiting for their trial. He had been unable to see her or talk to her during all that time. But now, Brother Winchester had come to visit, with news of her.

Dean had been unable to get into the place where the women were being held, of course, but he had asked his wife to go, in the name of Christian charity. She had reported back that Mrs. Alden was bearing up under the strain, but that she had been crying out of fear and worry for her husband.

John's heart hurt. His poor darling. She was in prison, suffering Lord only knew what kind of conditions, yet she was worried about him.

"What can we expect at this so-called trial tomorrow, Dean?" John asked his friend quietly.

Dean was uncomfortable. "It's hard to say, John. Some of them have been exonerated or let go for lack of evidence. Others haven't been as lucky."

John was agitated. "But how can they convict, based on lies and innuendo? Whatever happened to due process?"

"I don't know, John," Dean said, frowning. "I think this whole garbage started because somebody pissed somebody off, and it just got out of hand from there. You should have just gone along."

John laughed scornfully. "I couldn't do that, Dean. Men like Reverend Mathers thrive on conformity and fear. He has no business telling me what to do in my own home. It's a slippery slope, Dean."

"I'm sure that'll be of great comfort to Priscilla when the hangman loops that rope around her neck," Dean said bluntly, and John winced. Dean was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry," he said to his friend. "With my big mouth, I'm surprised I'm not in there with you. For the record, I think this whole thing is wrong too, John. If I didn't have my wife and kids to worry about, I'd be raising an objection."

"Well, I may not have any children, but you know my wife doesn't deserve any of this, either," John pointed out.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I know, John. But I'm sure everything will work out. They can't convict you without evidence."

John thanked Dean for his visit and for the news of Priscilla, but he sat glumly on his bunk afterwards. He wasn't so sure.

They were shackled at the trial and kept apart from each other, but John was overjoyed just to see her. Priscilla's face lit up when he was led into the room. Thank God he was all right. She'd been so afraid that he might lose his temper and start a fight. But she didn't see any marks on him, and he smiled at her when he entered the room.

The Magistrate called the hearing to order, and he read the charges against the Aldens. "How say you, Brother Alden?" he asked John.

"The charges are false," John stated firmly. "I challenge anyone to provide any credible evidence that my wife and myself practice witchcraft, or worship Demons. The very idea is absurd."

"Where is your evidence, Reverend Mathers?" the Magistrate asked the clergyman.

"We have a witness," the Reverend said briskly. "Ah, here she is, now."

John and Priscilla looked at each other, puzzled. Who could this witness be, and what could she possibly have seen?

A dark-skinned woman was led into the room. She was also in shackles, just as the Aldens were, and she looked fearfully at the Reverend as she was led past him. They sat her down on the stand as Priscilla and John gaped at her. How could this woman possibly be a witness against them? They didn't even know her. They had seen her around town, of course. She was the only black woman in the settlement. One of the wealthier families had brought the woman to the New World as a domestic servant. There were whispers that Tituba was actually a slave, but no one outside the Underhill family actually knew for sure.

In any event, Priscilla couldn't imagine what this woman would have to testify to, with regard to herself and John. She couldn't think of a single occasion they had exchanged even one word with her.

Nevertheless, Reverend Mathers began to question the woman. "Is it true that you have been holding secret meetings in the kitchen of your employer's house?" he said without preliminary.

"Yes, Reverend," Tituba said in a quiet voice.

"Don't be afraid to speak out loudly, for the record," Mathers said. "As I've told you, nothing will happen to you, or your son, if you tell us the truth."

John's forehead wrinkled. To her son? That sounded suspicious to him. It sounded very much like the threat that the Reverend had made to Brother Winchester. He had a bad feeling about this.

"And what would take place at these sessions?" the Reverend asked the woman.

Tituba had her head down as she replied, "We would talk about the future."

"The future?" he repeated. "What about the future?"

"How to foretell the future," she answered.

The Reverend sighed. They'd talked about this in the jailhouse. If she testified against Priscilla Alden as they had discussed, he had told Tituba that her own life would be spared, and the Underhills had promised to care for Tituba's young son, while she served her mandatory prison sentence. The unfortunate woman had seen little choice but to take the deal. She had absolutely nothing against the Aldens; she didn't even know them. But Tituba wanted to live, and Mrs. Underhill had promised the woman that she would bring her son in to see her in prison every now and then, whenever she had the time. After all, Mr. Underhill was the boy's father, although that fact was not for public knowledge, of course. The story that the Underhills had told their fellow colonists was that Tituba's husband had died in a Caribbean typhoon, and the family had taken her and her son in and provided them with food and shelter and a passage to the New World in exchange for domestic help, and au pair services for the Underhills' six children. That was just what good Christians did. But, the truth was a lot more complicated, of course.

"Please explain," Reverend Mathers said testily. "We need specifics."

Tituba looked at him. "I was instructing some women from town on the art of fortune-telling."

"...And...?" he prompted through gritted teeth.

"And voodoo," she said reluctantly.

"Voodoo?!" the good Reverend exclaimed. As if he hadn't known very well exactly what she was going to say. "Do you mean magic? Black magic?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied.

"And is there anyone in this room who attended those lessons?" he persisted.

Tituba swallowed, hard. But the Reverend was glaring at her now, so she lifted her hand and pointed. "Yes, Sir," she said again, pointing at Priscilla. "Mrs. Alden did."

"That's a lie!" Priscilla exclaimed. She looked at Tituba with wide eyes. Why would this woman say something so outrageous?

"Magistrate, please advise Mrs. Alden to restrain herself," the Reverend said calmly.

"But, the woman is clearly lying!" John piped up.

"How would you know, Mr. Alden?" the Magistrate asked John. "Surely she is not with you every moment of every day?"

"No, but..."

"Then clearly, she has been doing this behind your back," the Reverend said to John. "This is what happens when you are too permissive with your wife. You are not necessarily to be blamed but be advised that women are more susceptible to demonic temptations, through the manifold weakness of their gender. They are weaker in faith, and more carnal than men. They will defy convention by overstepping the lines of proper female decorum, if you allow them to do so. That may very well be why your wife has been behaving the way she has."

Despite the fact that he was shackled, John rose angrily to his feet and faced the clergyman. "What are you getting at, Mathers? Spit it out!"

"Do you really need me to spell it out for you?" the Reverend said calmly. "Fine, then. I will. Your wife has been taking education in the Black Arts. She has been having sexual congress with Demons, and then coming home to you with Lust in her heart. That is why she has tempted you with the pleasures of the flesh, and why she has no shame."

"How dare you? How dare you!" John shouted. His eyes were blazing. "Priscilla has been doing nothing of the sort! The only one she has sexual congress with is me, and that is because we are deeply in love! She has no shame because she doesn't need to have any shame. She has done nothing wrong. She is a wonderful, loving wife, and I am lucky to have her. Your so-called witness is a liar."

The Magistrate rapped his gavel. "Sit down, Mr. Alden. The Reverend is entitled to run his examination any way he sees fit."

"But he is railroading her! He has no proof!" John argued.

"I'm sure the Reverend will provide the proof," the judge said calmly. "If Mrs. Alden does not wish to confess, he can interrogate her directly. It's all here in the Malleus Maleficarum." He held up a book of medium thickness, with gilt-edged pages.

"The what?" John asked, puzzled.

"It's known as the Hammer of Witches," Reverend Mathers said imperiously. "It's a treatise on how to deal with their kind. There are three elements necessary for the condition of witchcraft to thrive, Mr. Alden: the evil intentions of the witch, the help of the Devil, and the permission of God. Therefore, we clergymen have to be extremely vigilant. That is why I hold daily services. If we deny the fact that such evil exists, it will multiply. Already we have arrested 20 people, the vast majority of whom are women such as your wife. She may have come into it innocently, but witches are the Devil's recruiters. So we have to make sure to stamp out all of his disciples, before the movement has a chance to grow."

"There's only one problem with that whole thing," Priscilla said loudly. "I'm not a witch. I've never been to any meetings, and I've never even met this woman!" She looked at Tituba. "Why are you lying? What have I ever done to you? We've never even met!"

"Mr. Alden, please tell your wife to control herself," the Magistrate said sternly.

Reverend Mathers laughed scornfully. "You're wasting time with that instruction, Your Honour. It's obvious that Mrs. Alden is the dominant one in the relationship. She has castrated her husband. Another hallmark of witchcraft, by the way."

"I can assure you that my husband is far from castrated," Priscilla said. Her lips were twitching with amusement, even though she tried to will them not to be. This whole thing had to be a colossal joke. There was no way they were going to be able to convict her with no actual evidence, on the say-so of a woman she had never even met. No way. She refused to believe it. God would never permit an innocent person to be convicted of witchcraft this way.

"Do you see what I've been talking about now, Your Honour?" the Reverend said triumphantly. "The woman has no decency!"

"I agree," the Magistrate said. "I've heard enough. I'm ready to pass sentence." He picked up his gavel.

"No!" John shouted. "No! It was me!"

"I beg your pardon?" the judge asked him.

"It was me," John repeated. "I was the one who was practicing witchcraft. I led Mrs. Alden into a life of Sin. She is blameless. My wife was only obeying my orders. I made her into a wanton woman."

Reverend Mathers' eyes narrowed. "Are we just to take your word for it?"

"Why not? You were willing to take a stranger's word against my wife a moment ago! I am the man in the household, and I'm telling you that I am responsible!" John said angrily.

"Fine. Have it your way, then," Mathers said. "You can both go to the gallows."

"You're not listening," John said through gritted teeth. "I told you, it was me, and me alone, who is guilty of the wrongdoings."

"But if your wife took part, then she is equally guilty," the Magistrate said slowly, as if talking to a child.

Brother Winchester had been listening to this whole exchange, successfully restraining himself from comment. But now, he just couldn't hold back any more. "You men keep insisting that the man is the Master of the household," he said out loud. "But if that is the case, and if Mr. Alden had instructed his wife to do his bidding, then surely she is innocent, by your own reasoning!" he pointed out.

John looked at Dean gratefully. "That's right," he agreed eagerly. "I told her what to do. It was me. So you can do whatever you're going to do to me, but you must let my wife go."

"No, John. No," Priscilla moaned softly. "I won't let you confess to something you haven't done just to exonerate me."

"You won't 'let' me?" Well, isn't it lucky that I'm the Master of the household, then?" John said to her. I'm not going to sit by and allow you to be put to death, his eyes said. I love you too much.

"You're the Master of nothing," she retorted. Except for of my heart, my soul, my love, and my life, her eyes said.

"That's enough," the Magistrate said sharply. He rapped his gavel. "Mrs. Alden will be hung. But Mr. Alden needs to be made an example of. Not only has he bluntly and proudly confessed to corrupting his wife, but I have an Affidavit here from Brother Leacock, stating that Mr. Alden assaulted him so badly that he could not make his appearance here today."

"That's a lie," Dean said hotly. "Mr. Alden landed but one punch. Leacock was fine afterwards."

"So, as Brother Winchester has just attested, Mr. Alden is so against the church that he is attempting to murder those associated with it! He threatened me with violence, as well!" Reverend Mathers exclaimed loudly.

"So it would seem," the Magistrate sighed. "Therefore, I order that Mr. Alden be pressed to death in the town square, for all the townspeople to see, as a deterrent. Sentence will be carried out in the morning." He rapped his gavel again, then rose and left the room abruptly.

Priscilla looked at John with wide eyes. This couldn't be happening. How could they be put to death by concept alone? "John...?" she said fearfully.

"I love you, Mrs. Alden," he said softly.

"Take them away," the Reverend said.

Dean came forward and took John gently by the arm. He led him towards the door, making sure that they passed by Priscilla's chair on the way. She jumped up, and she and John moved towards each other. They were both shackled, so they were unable to put their arms around each other, but he kissed her on the mouth, and she responded eagerly. Then he nuzzled her cheek with his. "I'm going to try to find a way for you to get away from here," John said in her ear.

Then Priscilla was pulled away from him, and they were taken to their separate jails. As Priscilla sat down on her cot and began to cry, John was trying to negotiate with Dean.

"Please, Brother Winchester," he begged. "I don't have much, but whatever I have is yours. I have a little bit of gold saved, and I have a pocket watch that was given to me by the ship's Captain of Mayflower. You can have all of it if you'll just let Mrs. Alden go. Please."

"I don't want your stuff, John," Dean said uncomfortably. "And, hey, I'd let both of you go, if I could. But my wife and kids are alive, and I need them to stay that way." But he was uneasy. Didn't the Aldens deserve to stay alive, too? Dean frowned. "I'll tell you what," he said quietly. "Maybe I'll go over there and see if I can distract the jailer just long enough for Mrs. Alden to get the key to her cell. Then, if she should happen to get out and get away, I guess the hangman will have to skip a meal."

John breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Brother Winchester. You have been kind to us. I just wish we'd met under different circumstances. I feel we could have been very good friends."

"Yeah, me too," Dean said sadly. He stuck his hand in-between the bars of the cell. "Good luck to you, John."

But when Dean got to the womens' jailhouse, Priscilla wasn't happy to see him. "If you were going to help anyone escape, I'd rather you had helped John," she said, tight-lipped. "They're going to press him to death, Dean! You know what that is, right? They're going to torture him slowly to death, while the whole town watches!"

Dean winced. Yeah, he knew. "Look, Mrs. Alden. He asked me to help you, and I'm willing to do that, as long as I don't get caught. But, that's it. That's as far as I can go."

Priscilla folded her arms stubbornly. "Well, you can forget about it."

"Why are you being so obstinate?" Dean said irritably.

"You don't get it, Dean," she replied sadly. "If John does not live, I don't want to, either."

Dean stared at her for a moment, and then he shook his head slowly. "What's with the two of you? You guys are as poor as we are, but your husband just offered me the only assets he's got to set you free from jail. I told him I wouldn't take the stuff. But now, I'm trying to help you anyway, and you say no. Are you honestly telling me that you would rather be hung?"

"Yes, Dean. That's exactly what I'm telling you," she replied. She thought for a moment. "Actually, there is something you could do for me, though. Do you think I could get in to see him somehow, before...before tomorrow comes?"

He frowned. "I don't know, Mrs. Alden. I don't know if they're gonna go for that."

"Oh, what does Xavier care? He's getting his pound of flesh, and then some!" she blurted out.

"Xavier?" Dean said, puzzled. "Who's that?"

Priscilla opened her mouth, then closed it again. She didn't know. "Maybe you should start calling me Priscilla, Dean," she said wryly. "But hey, look on the bright side. You won't have to do it for long."

Dean looked around, but the matron was looking away pointedly, so he slipped his hand between the cell bars and took her hand. "You don't have to do this, Priscilla," he said softly. The matron yawned. Dean guessed that once her prisoners had been convicted of wrongdoing, the woman ceased to care about the appearance of any potential improprieties in the jailhouse. But Dean wasn't looking to be improper, he just felt an overwhelming urge to comfort her. Boy, this really stunk.

"Yes, I do, Dean," she replied. "And I think you know it, too. We're done. We don't belong here. I just wish people would stop persecuting us for being different. Do you think there will ever be a time that we'll be free to just be ourselves, one day?"

"I'm sure there will be, Mrs. - I mean, Priscilla," he assured her. "I think you and John will be together again, and I hope to be there with you. You're not the only ones who need a do-over. My brother Sam died of pneumonia the first year that we landed here, and I'd give anything I have to get him another chance. He was a fine young man. You and John would have liked him."

"Well then, let's focus on that," Patricia said, giving Dean's hand a squeeze. "Let's make a pact, that we'll all be together again, in a new life. A better life. These people can call that notion witchcraft if they want to, but I just call it love."

Dean smiled. "'I just call it love'," he repeated. "I like that. I like that a lot, Priscilla." Then he gave her a brief grin. "Let's come up with a better name for you next time, though. Maybe something short, one-syllable. Your names are always too long." He took his hand back. "I'll see you and John tomorrow," Dean said, his smile fading. "Promise me, no matter what, you'll focus on that new life of ours. If you do that, you'll find the courage to get through it." Then he turned and left the jail immediately, so she couldn't see the tears starting to form in his eyes.

The morning dawned, sunny but cold. John's jailers took him out to the town square and tied him spread-eagled to the ground. Then they laid a flat board on his torso and piled heavy stones and pieces of iron on it as the townspeople gathered to watch.

They brought Priscilla out a short time later and locked her in the stocks facing her husband, so she would be forced to see what they were subjecting him to.

"Don't cry, my love," he called out to her. "You know this isn't the end. It isn't even close. There will be better days for us, and other existences, in other eras."

"Do you see?" Reverend Mathers said to the spectators. "Even at the hour of his death, he talks heresy. Other existences and other eras, indeed. Now you see what the practice of witchcraft leads to: insanity."

"I just call it love," Dean murmured. He asked his wife to make a sampler with that phrase on it later that day, and it hung in their home for many years afterwards.

"What's the matter, Mrs. Alden?" Mathers said coldly. "Black cat got your tongue?"

Priscilla was astonished. She looked at his face. He looked like the Devil himself. Reverend, indeed. Mathers looked like a Demon to her, and the townspeople looked like ghosts. Didn't they know they were all dead, already? They had no life, and no love. She felt sorry for them.

Mathers leaned down to look at her face. "We're actually being charitable, Mrs. Alden, in allowing your husband to remain clothed. The instructions for this procedure state that he is supposed to be in an unclothed state. But due to the cold temperature, and in the interests of decency, we have allowed him to remain dressed."

Oh, this was too much. He had to be kidding. "Well, of course," she said bitterly. "We wouldn't want him to catch his death, would we?" Then she made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob.

John's heart was breaking for her. "More weight," he said as loudly as he could, considering the fact that his air was becoming very limited.

Mathers pursed his lips, but he waved his hand. "You heard the prisoner. Add more weight," he instructed. "Then bring him bread and water, for breakfast."

Priscilla's eyes widened. What madness was this, now? Breakfast?

"It's to prolong his life, therefore prolonging his suffering," Dean said in a low voice. "And yours," he added, with contempt.

John knew that too, of course. "I'll be having no breakfast," he said, as calmly as he could. He didn't want to let on to Priscilla how much agony he was in right now. He could see the devastation in her eyes. What kind of so-called Christians would condone a barbaric practice such as this one, and then force their spouse to watch? Sometimes, he honestly thought his Father must have left something out of the recipe when He made many humans. Or added one too many ingredients, causing the whole thing to spoil. How fortunate that they weren't all like that. John looked at Brother Dean, standing by Priscilla, and it was as if the two of them had a special glow about them that none of the others did. John had not been privy to Priscilla and Dean's talk at her jail cell, but he also knew now that they would all be together again. They had a higher calling, one that was not bound by limits such as time, fear, ignorance, or the atrocities that men sometimes commit in the name of religion.

"Come on, Mathers. What is this, a Sunday social? I thought there was supposed to be a heavy weight on my chest, but I can't feel a thing," John taunted the man. It was time to bring this to a close.

Mathers waved his hand again, and even more weight was added. There was a cracking sound, which could only be the sound of John's bones breaking, and he gave a cry. But, only one. Priscilla was sobbing now, and he wanted to remain stoic for her.

"I - love - you." He forced the words out. Those were the last words he wanted her to hear from him. They were the first words he planned on saying to her when he saw her next.

"I love you too, John," Priscilla wailed. "I always have, and I always will." She looked at Mathers. "Please, take me to the gallows, now," she pleaded.

"Don't," the Reverend said, as Dean moved forward to the stocks to let Priscilla out. Mathers looked from John to Priscilla, and back again. "On second thought, I think we'll press Mrs. Alden, as well," he mused aloud. It seems to me that might be a bit more humane. After all, it's like a Sunday social, right, Mr. Alden?"

"No," John said with one of his last breaths. "Please."

Dean's hands were curled into fists. There was no reason to do that to her. Absolutely none. And even if, in some crazy way, there had been, there was no reason to say it to her husband, just as he was taking his final breaths. Dean reached into his waistcoat and took out the gun, looking at John with raised eyebrows. John gave him a single nod.

"Close your eyes, Priscilla," Dean said softly. "Picture how happy you and John will be when you see each other next."

And then he put the gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

Now Gail was weeping uncontrollably. "Oh, my God, Cas," she wailed. "Oh, my God! How could you stand it? How did you stand it?"

"I just kept looking at your face," he said softly, touching her cheek with his hand. "Please don't be too angry with Dean. He was actually being very kind. We couldn't bear the thought of you going through that kind of agony."

She was speechless. What the hell kind of a message had their Father been trying to send them with that little gem? That they shouldn't have come to America in the first place? That people could be monsters? That too much religion was bad? What? What?

Cas reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a handful of tissues. He dabbed Gail's cheeks with them, and she took them from him and wiped her face. When she had collected herself, Gail discarded the tissues and touched Cas's face with both hands.

"You confessed to a lie to try to buy my life," she said to him.

He gave her a half-shrug. "Of course I did. I love you. So you see, I haven't always been selfish."

Gail shook her head. "I don't think you're selfish, sweetie. Even when you were in Africa, you were doing all kinds of wonderful things for those people. I know I was angry, but it was Lucifer I was really angry at. Not you. Never you."

"Even though it was my hands that put those bruises on you?" Cas asked her sadly.

"Once again, it was him who did that, not you," Gail insisted. "I recognize the difference."

"There was a time when we thought that it WAS me, and it was not so long ago," Cas pointed out. "I will never forget that lesson, Gail. I just want you to know that."

"I do, Cas," she said, nodding. Then she sighed. "I just wish I knew what the lesson was that we were supposed to have learned, when we were being put to death in the Colony."

"A cautionary tale against the practice of witchcraft, maybe?" Cas posited.

"I'd be a lot more prepared to believe that if we'd actually been doing magic," Gail said, frowning. "But it felt more like the tribunal to me. Maybe we should look in the history books, to see if Reverend Mathers' first name was Xavier."

Cas looked startled for a moment, but then he shrugged. "Or maybe it wasn't a lesson at all. Maybe it was just another rotten day in our lives, one that was designed to make us appreciate the good ones all the more."

Now Gail was the one to look startled. Surely, that couldn't have been it. All she would have to do to appreciate her life, her real life, would be to think of the past year that she and Dean and Sam and Bobby had endured. If that bleak tale had served any purpose at all, in her mind it was to reinforce what a special and significant relationship she and Cas had with Dean. Apparently, it went back a lot further than they had thought. Well, for her and Dean, anyway. Many times, it was unclear exactly how much of their past that Cas remembered, because he seldom let on. But now, Gail had a pretty good idea of why Castiel had risked so much to raise Dean from Hell. And maybe she and Dean were overdue for a little conversation of their own.

But first, there was her husband. The man who meant the whole world, the stars, and the universe to her. The one she'd rather have died than to have been without. She'd felt that way then, and nothing had changed in that regard now.

"Do you remember what we were doing on the morning Brother Winchester came to our house that time?" Gail said with a mischievous smile.

Cas thought for a moment, and then he started to smile. "Yes, I do, Mrs. Alden. Of course I do. Wait here just a moment."

Cas got off the bed and left the room. Gail sat there, puzzled. But he came back in just a few seconds and got back in bed with her.

"What was that all about?" Gail asked him curiously.

"I was just making sure I knew where my comb was," Cas said charmingly.

Gail laughed merrily. "Good, because you're going to need it, once we're done."

"Come here, please," he said, putting his arms around her. He kissed her on the mouth, and she traced his lips with her tongue. "I have always loved you, and I always will," Cas told her softly.

A couple of hours later, Cas was in the shower and Gail was under the covers, resting. Wow. He wasn't the only one who was going to need a shower and a comb, after what they had just been doing. That had been incredible. They were both just so happy to be alive, and to be together. Just as they had been equal partners in the New World, which of course had been part of their problem back then, they had also been equal partners tonight. Cas had taken the lead at first, as he knew she liked him to do. But then they had gone back and forth, giving and receiving, until they had both been laying back, exhausted but smiling.

When Gail came out from her shower afterwards and climbed back into bed with her husband, she snuggled up against him. "A couple of things happened while you were in the Netherworld that I never got the chance to tell you about," she said to him.

They discussed the things that Quinn had said to Gail and their friends while Cas had been gone. Cas was instantly on high alert. "Quinn said that your father killed Frank's parents?" he said incredulously.

"Well, she didn't come right out and say so, no. But that's pretty much the inference," Gail replied.

Cas's arms tightened around her. The description of Gail's father in the living room of her and Frank's childhood home in Denver had given him the chills. Who was this man, and why did Cas have a really bad feeling about him? Was it possible that Crowley had actually been telling them the truth when he'd claimed to be innocent of the murder of Frank's parents? Of course, whether or not Crowley was responsible for that particular heinous act was immaterial to Castiel. The King of Hell had done plenty of horrible things to all of them throughout the years, particularly to Gail. Like his wife, Cas was sure that Crowley knew more than he was telling about this whole thing.

"And, I have another confession to make," Gail continued. "Frank talked me into opening that envelope."

Cas came out of their embrace, looking at her with surprise. "I thought we'd agreed to table the subject until Lucifer was gone," he said to her.

"We did, but..." Then she told him what Rob had said to Frank about wondering what Gail's real father had to do with him, and Cas was floored. "So, what was in the envelope?"

"Hold onto your hat," she said dryly. "A woman's name and address. Ooooh. Spooky." Then she told Cas what Frank had said, and he agreed with her brother that it was at least a place to start.

"And I promise you we'll have that conversation with Crowley that we've talked about having, too," Cas said, kissing her on the forehead. "But we can't afford to get sidetracked right now. We'll go to Egypt tomorrow and get a look at those sacred writings, and then we'll talk to Metatron and see what he might have to contribute. Hopefully this trip will give us the clues that we need to find the blade in New York City." And then, of course, there was the dilemma about just what they were supposed to do with the blade once they got it, and how all of the Tablets came into play. But that was a little too much to think of, all at once. They'd already accomplished much, but it helped to think of their quests in terms of a To Do list, checking off one task at a time. Then the whole thing wouldn't seem as daunting. But now, Cas had a whole new set of worries coming in behind the current ones, and most of them now centered around the identity of Gail's real father. Was the man still alive, and did he pose a threat to her safety?

He was never leaving Gail alone again, ever, Cas vowed to himself. They'd just spent the Year From Hell apart, and then Lucifer had seized Gail the first chance he'd gotten, when Cas had dropped his guard for just a moment. Lucifer was an erratic individual at the best of times, but Castiel couldn't quite figure out what this latest move of Lucifer's had been all about. He had kidnapped Gail, subjecting her to sensory deprivation and mind games, but he hadn't really done much of anything to her, in the final analysis. There could have been many, more horrifying, things he could have done to her. Cas thanked their Father that he had not, of course, but it was still puzzling. If her presence had been for the purposes of bait only, then why had Lucifer not engaged in a showdown with Castiel, when he'd finally gotten there? Even considering the dubious idea that Lucifer hadn't wanted a direct confrontation with himself and Gail, then why would he not have lain waste to the remainder of the so-called God Squad? Had the protection afforded by the Pope's candlesticks really been that strong, or was there something more to it than that?

Cas's head hurt. Maybe he should take the thinking cap off for a few minutes. Gail was looking at him with her head tilted to the side, as she sometimes did. "What are you thinking about?" she asked him.

"How sorry I am," Cas replied evenly.

Her forehead wrinkled. "What about, sweetie?"

"About the fact that we're both going to need another shower before we go over to the bunker in the morning," he said, lifting an eyebrow to her. They'd been sitting up in bed talking, but now, he pulled her down on top of him and wrapped his arms around her. He pushed himself up and into her immediately. "Let's see how long we can stay like this, and not move," Cas said to her with a small smile.

"Really? Do you really want to try that with me?" Gail said teasingly. "OK, what are the rules, then? Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, of course you can," Cas replied, and she kissed him on the lips.

"How about if I do this?" she said. She kissed him again, using her tongue this time. His tongue played with hers, and he made a low noise in his throat, but he still didn't move.

She kissed and licked his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair. Cas was smiling. He liked that, but he was managing to keep himself still, although it was growing increasingly harder to do so.

Gail lifted her face to look at his. "So, you're going to be stubborn about this, are you?" she said, kissing his face.

"I'm just exhibiting a little self-control," Cas said, as stoically as he could. "I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

"No, there's nothing wrong with that, to a certain extent," Gail said into his ear. "But personally, I've never been a big fan." She licked his ear, contracting her body's muscles at the same time. And that was it for Cas. He grabbed her and flipped her over, driving himself into her. He clung to her tightly, moaning her name.

When Cas got his breath back, he looked down at her. "You're right, maybe self-control is the way to go, here," she said teasingly. "Maybe we'll just watch a little TV, then."

"Maybe we will. Eventually," Cas said, smiling lazily. He withdrew from her and then lifted her up by the hips. His tongue snaked out, and he lapped at her enthusiastically.

She began to shout. "Cas! That's so good!" Her hands flew to his head and she clutched at his hair, pushing him closer to where she wanted him. His tongue sped up even faster and she cried out loudly, holding him there.

Then, when she'd calmed down a bit, Cas gently flipped her over again. He leaned her against the headboard of the bed and entered her from behind. His hands were everywhere on her body, and he was kissing and licking her ear, whispering terms of endearment. He pushed forward, again and again, and she was enjoying the delightful friction, and the feeling of his hands caressing her skin. Then he flipped the hair up from the back of her neck and licked her there, and the sensation was so unexpectedly sexy that her knees buckled. He put one arm around her waist and spread her legs wider with his other hand, touching her there as he thrust forward.

"Cas," she murmured. He took that as his signal to speed up, but honestly, he'd needed to go faster, anyway. He closed his eyes as the warmth flowed out of him and into her. Then he bent forward, holding her there, using his lips and tongue on her again. He was rewarded with more whimpers, and then more cries of pleasure.

Then Cas lowered Gail gently onto the mattress and gathered her up in his arms until their heartbeats slowed and they regained their breath.

"Okay, NOW we can watch some TV," Cas said, smiling. "That is, if that's all right with you, my love."

"Anything you want is all right with me," Gail replied dreamily. "Anything."

Cas got the remote and then he helped Gail into prime cuddling position, wrapping the covers around them. He kissed her on the forehead. "This. This is what I want, right here. Many things may change in our lives, but this never will."

Then he turned on the TV.

Lucifer had been floating around the rooms of his mansion like a ghost at his own wake for hours now, and he was getting fed up with himself.

What the hell was the matter with him? He'd had everything he had ever wanted, and more. He'd been freed from the cage and had set himself up here on Earth in grand style. He had been the Supreme Commander of an army of Demons and like-minded humans, who had gone on a global killing spree in his name. He had tormented and toyed with the Angels, and kicked God himself out of his own Office. Granted, God had only been in the form of Bobby Singer, but it still counted, in Lucifer's book. He'd also finally experienced sex, in several different forms and combinations. He'd had a devoted following as Reverend Devlin and had enjoyed the attendant material success and sphere of influence.

Yet with all of that, he sat here now, alone. It was ridiculous, really. The Devil was clinically depressed. What did he want to do now? The world was an empty canvas, but he couldn't think of a single colour at the moment.

He had to mourn the loss of his army, and then move on. It had been fun while it lasted, but he should have known that it wouldn't be sustainable. Look at the kinds of people who had been in his employ. Demons. Bikers. Psychopaths. It was no wonder they had bungled the operation. Lucifer's ego would never permit him to acknowledge that he was the one who was ultimately responsible for its failure. No, it was the Demons' fault. They were otherworldly beings with supernatural powers, but they were also incredibly stupid. Lucifer had sent them out there to wreak havoc, and they had done their fair share of that. But he had also given them lists of the people who comprised the so-called God Squad and offered the most generous of bounties on all of their heads, and he had received exactly nothing in return. Yes, it was the Demons' fault. They were stupid, and they were traitors, too. The cowards had all gone back to Crowley now, and at last report, the King of Hell was coddling them like they were babies, and Crowley was a wet nurse.

Maybe it was the bikers' fault. Apparently, they had been more interested in booze and rape than they had been in Lucifer's agenda. Bikers were nothing but grown-up toddlers, who did whatever they felt like doing. Yes, the argument could be made that it had been the bikers' fault, for pulling the focus from their mission.

And what about the psychopaths? Well, crazy people were just crazy, weren't they? How on earth could you expect to rely on people like that?

Like it or not, Lucifer had to look in the mirror and face some hard facts: his people had all let him down because he'd been lacking in the leadership department. But, how could that possibly be Lucifer's fault? He'd spent the vast majority of his existence locked away in a cage, all by himself for the most part. It was no wonder his people skills were lacking.

Lucifer sighed. He supposed he'd have to swallow his pride and do something about that. He winked himself over to the crossroads and summoned his Brother.

Crowley was walking around the library slowly, pretending as if he were utterly fascinated by the room. He'd come out of sheer curiosity, but he was in the drivers' seat now, and they both knew it.

But now that Lucifer had the King here, he had no idea how to begin the conversation. His inexplicably inflated ego was doing battle with his desire to matter. That had been his worst fear as he had been sitting around the manse, feeling sorry for himself. That somehow, the notorious, fearsome Lucifer had ceased to matter. If he wasn't terrorizing people, did he even exist? Metatron had once been the most reviled individual in Heaven, yet he had done a disappearing act once they'd gotten to Earth, and no one even talked about him anymore. Lucifer didn't think he could bear it if no one ever invoked his name as being the epitome of evil any more. So he needed to find out how to sustain his brand, and that was where Crowley came in. The King of Hell was a salesman by nature, and the Devil had to give him his due: he was obviously a good one. Despite what Lucifer might think of Crowley personally, he'd be a fool to dismiss the King's success out of hand. He'd held onto his throne against all comers, and maybe most miraculous of all, he was still surviving, despite having had multiple interactions with Castiel and his crowd. He even had them convinced that his continued existence was essential to their mission. And if that wasn't salesmanship, Lucifer didn't know what was.

Crowley was pausing at the bar now. He grabbed a decanter and took the stopper out, sniffing cautiously at its contents. Yikes. How long had Lucifer been here on Earth, living in the lap of luxury? Three years now? More? Yet in all that time, he hadn't managed to develop any taste for quality, or any sense of refinement. No wonder he couldn't get anybody to respect him. Well, that and the fact that he was an overgrown baby who had no clue what life was all about.

The King of Hell rolled his eyes. If he waited for Lucifer to grow up and realize what an abject failure he was, Crowley's denizens would be playing ice hockey. Still, Lucifer had obviously called him here for a reason, so he might as well find out just how delusional the Devil was.

"So...what's new?" Crowley said with a smirk.

Lucifer took a couple of deep breaths. "I'm pretty sure you know about everything that's been going on," Lucifer said, managing to keep the petulance out of his tone.

"Yes, that's true," Crowley agreed. He poured himself a couple of fingers of the least objectionable stuff, rationalizing that he was going to need it for this conversation. "So, where is she?"

"Where is who?" Lucifer asked him, genuinely puzzled.

"Really?" Crowley said dryly. "How many Angels are you holding prisoner at the moment?"

"Oh, her? She's gone," Lucifer said offhandedly. "Her husband came and got her. And, you're welcome."

Crowley took a sip of his drink. "What for?"

"For sending Paul back to you," Satan replied. "He just wasn't working out in my organization."

Crowley smirked. That might actually be the funniest thing he'd ever heard Lucifer say. But: "I don't have him back," he told Lucifer.

"You don't?" Lucifer said, surprised. "Oh. Well. He probably went back to Purgatory, then. Doesn't matter. He was a dirty traitor, anyway."

"Was he, now?" Crowley said impassively. "Well, that's Demons, for you. Liars and backstabbers, the whole lot of them."

"You're the head Demon, aren't you?" Lucifer blurted out.

Crowley's eyes flashed red for a moment. "What's your point?"

"I didn't mean it that way," the Devil said. He got up from his chair and fixed himself another drink. Phew. That had been close. He had totally meant it that way, of course. But Crowley held all the cards right now, and Lucifer had better rein himself in a bit. It was hard to be humble when you were him, but he'd better try.

"I was simply going to say that it must be difficult to lead individuals like that," Lucifer said smoothly. "How do you know whom you can trust?"

"I would think you would know the answer to that by now, Brother," Crowley said, raising an eyebrow. "The answer is: no one. Trust no one."

"Not even you?" Lucifer said, staring at him.

"Especially not me," Crowley said coolly. "Am I not the King of all those liars and backstabbers, after all?"

"I wasn't talking about you, Your Majesty," Lucifer said, using his most ingratiating tone. "I know I can trust you. We are Brothers, are we not?" It was funny; two minutes with Crowley and Lucifer was sounding like he'd stepped out of a Jane Austen novel. Now he knew that calling Crowley had been a good idea. If Crowley could class him up a little, Lucifer might be able to reinvent himself. Why not? Madonna kept on doing it; why couldn't he? If he could make it all the way back and regain his loyal following, he would be a better, more effective leader the next time around. And then he would crush them all, starting with the smarmy little bastard who was sitting there smiling so smugly at him right now.

"Certainly, we're Brothers," Crowley acknowledged with a tilt of his head. "But Castiel is my Brother, too. At this point, I'm tempted just to go with the highest bidder."

Lucifer's blood began to boil. "What could Castiel offer you? Piousness? Charity? Virtue?" he sneered.

Crowley was amused. Lucifer didn't know his dear Brother nearly as well as he thought, if he believed those were Castiel's main characteristics. "Relax, Brother, I was only joking," he assured Lucifer. "You have my word that when the time comes, I'll be standing on the correct side."

Lucifer nodded. That would have to do, for now. "Do you know what Castiel and his group are up to, now?" he asked the King.

Crowley looked at him incredulously. "Did you not say that you just had them all here? Castiel informed me that you had Gail here as prisoner for a few months. Yet, you were not able to get anything out of her in all that time?"

"What do you mean, 'get anything out of her'?" Lucifer asked, genuinely puzzled.

Crowley gaped at him. He had to be kidding with this. Then it dawned on him: Lucifer didn't know. The Devil had no idea that Castiel had been to see Luke in the Netherworld, and that he had come back with information. Gail knew about it too, of course. Yet Lucifer had had her here that whole time, and he hadn't thought to torture any information out of her? And he thought of himself as a leader? It was to laugh. Not to mention that, by his own admission, Lucifer had had the Sainted couple right here in the mansion, and had inexplicably let them leave, unscathed. The two Angels who were spearheading the mission that would potentially be his undoing. What kind of sense did that even make? Did Lucifer actually WANT to lose?

It took some time, but Chuck had finally been able to get Bobby alone. The older man poured himself a cup of coffee, and he had just sat down in the kitchen to drink it when Chuck walked in.

"So...that was pretty interesting yesterday, wasn't it?" Chuck said tentatively, sitting down opposite Bobby.

Bobby sighed. "Yeah. Remember those old Lethal Weapon movies? I'm getting too old for this...stuff."

Chuck grinned briefly. "Nice edit there, Bobby. But, for the record, I know what you mean. This thing with Lucifer has got to be resolved. It's been going on for way too long. By whatever means necessary, right, Bobby?"

Bobby let out another breath. "Spit it out, Chuck."

Chuck swallowed, hard. "I know that witch that you saw."

Bobby was mildly surprised, but he supposed it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. "You've met Rowena before?"

"Rowena?" Chuck echoed. His forehead wrinkled. Had she used an alias when she'd been with Chuck? Then he broke into a cold sweat. Rowena. Rowena?!

"I know, I know," Bobby said impatiently, misreading Chuck's expression. "The mother of the King of Hell, and a witch. Well, she and I go way back, and I'm not gonna apologize for going to see her. She helped us out, didn't she? That's the most important thing, isn't it?

Chuck sat there numbly. Rowena. Crowley's mother! THAT was who he had hooked up with in Paris? It was a good thing Angels didn't throw up.

"I don't have to justify myself to you, Chuck," Bobby said testily, as if Chuck had spoken. He stood abruptly. "I don't have to justify myself to anybody." Then he stalked out of the room as Chuck stared after him, open-mouthed.

Cas and Gail appeared in the library area shortly after that. Their human friends were sitting around having coffee and breakfast, and Kevin was putting together his notes for the concordance, with Riley's help. The night before, they had transferred the pictures they had taken to Sam's laptop, and copied Cas on the e-mail. Kevin and Sam were ready for whatever research might be required.

Cas and Gail were holding hands, as usual, and they were standing close together, smiling warmly at each other. "Ummm...good morning?" Sam said to them.

"Good morning, Sam," Cas responded, but he was still staring at his wife.

"How are you, Sam?" Gail said, but she was smiling at her husband.

"You are aware we can see you right now, right?" Frank asked them, bemused.

Cas wrapped his arm around Gail and they turned to look at her brother. "Sorry, Frank," Cas said, grinning.

"Oh, yeah? Well, tell that to your face," Frank smirked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Give them a break," Dean said unexpectedly. "They've spent a lot of time apart lately."

Gail's mouth dropped open. Suddenly, she was back in the Colony, and Brother Dean was standing up to the Puritans on their behalf. She gave Cas a squeeze, and he nodded.

"Dean, can I talk to you for a minute?" Gail asked their friend.

He looked at her, about to make a smartass comment, but then something about the look on her face made him think twice. He stood, gesturing to her. "Come to the weapons room with me, then," he said. "We'll be packing light on this trip, but Sammy and I need to get a couple of things from there. You guys can have something too, if you want. I doubt we have that much to worry about as far as an attack goes any more, but still, there's no way we're going anywhere unarmed from now on."

Gail followed him down the hall and into the weapons room. "Let's see. There's you and Cas, me and Sam, and Kevin. That's it, I think. Since this is only a research trip, the others wanna stay home," Dean said.

"Gee, Dean, I've never seen you so excited about 'research' before," Gail teased him. "If you're so gung-ho to get started, maybe we'll just drop you off at the museum, then, while we go to the movie set."

"Har, har. You're hilarious," he said, opening the cabinet. "Do you guys need Demon knives?"

"No, we've still got ours," Gail said absently.

"I wonder if Kevin kept his," Dean mused aloud. "Oh, well. May as well bring another one. It couldn't hurt."

She gazed into the cabinet, astonished. "Where'd you get all those? You didn't have that many before, did you?" she asked him suspiciously.

Dean winked at her. "We may or may not have kept a few of the ones that your hubby and Kevin got for Frank's buddies last year. You're not gonna rat me out, are you?"

"No, Dean," she said, smiling. "I think they're a lot more useful here than they would be just locked up in Heaven right now." Though there was a time, and she hoped it would be soon, that she expected that situation to change.

He looked at her, then nodded. "Good deal. I knew I could count on you, Mrs. Buzzkill. Or should I just call you Mrs. Kill, for short?"

"Oh God, please don't," she said, frowning.

Dean winced. "I'm sorry, Gail. I didn't mean anything by it. I guess only Frank can pull off jokes like that."

"Yeah, well, it's not for amateurs, that's for sure," Gail said. She leaned against the weapons table. "How about you just call me Priscilla, instead?"

Dean paused in the act of taking a gun out of the cabinet. He looked at her, then at the gun, then back at her. "What the hell, Gail? Why would you say something like that?" he asked her softly.

She considered pressing the issue for a moment, but then she remembered Cas telling her that most humans weren't capable of remembering previous existences. Or even if they did, they would usually ascribe these memories to dreams they had had, or something they had seen in a movie. Every once in a while, the sense of deja vu would be so strong that it would nearly lift the veil, but then, it would be dismissed as just that: deja vu. So Gail said nothing. She just looked at him and smiled. Such was their way of life that the sight of Dean holding a gun would only make her think fondly of him from now on.

Suddenly, Gail launched herself at Dean and hugged him. "I love you, Dean," she told him.

Dean was surprised, but he hugged her back. "What's gotten into you?" he asked her.

"Nothing. Nothing's gotten into me. I just wanted to make sure you knew how I felt. After that year we spent out there, I was afraid - "

"Don't be," he said shortly. He pulled out of the embrace and looked at her.

"But you don't even know how I was going to finish that sentence," she protested.

"Yeah, I do," he said, chucking her under the chin. "If you keep your big yap shut about it, I'll tell you the truth: I was afraid that our relationship was gonna suffer too, after the year we just spent. But you know what? Not only do I love you more now, but I respect you more. I always respected you, but after everything you did, and everything you put yourself through, to do the right thing last year...I was a whiny, pouty douchebag. How you kept yourself from kicking my ass is beyond me. That whole time I was bitching about how uncomfortable I was, I knew that people were dying all over the world, and worse, even. But for some reason, I couldn't stop running my mouth about how the whole thing sucked for ME. And what's even worse, I acted like somehow, it was yours and Cas's fault. You kept us all alive that whole time, and all I did was throw everything I was feeling back in your face. I'm so damn sorry, Gail. You should have just told me to go to hell."

"As I recall, I did, quite a few times," she said, her lips twitching.

"Yeah, but here you are, telling me you love me," Dean said, shaking his head. "What's wrong with you and your husband? You insult him, and he laughs. I treat you like the biggest dick in the world, and you hug me."

"I guess that's what's known as turning the other cheek," Gail said, and now, her smile was growing. "We are Angels, after all. That's the kind of junk we're supposed to be doing, isn't it?"

"Turning the other cheek?" Dean said, smirking. "Gimme a break."

"Okay, maybe that was a little bit much," she admitted. "But, I have my reasons. Now tell me you love me too, grab your weapons, and let's go see your girlfriend. Or am I not supposed to call her that?"

His smile dissolved. "I don't know, Gail," he responded. "I guess time will tell on that score." He grabbed her and kissed her on the forehead. "Come on, let's go, Mrs. Alden." Dean closed the cabinet door and walked out of the room, leaving an astonished Gail behind.

Because she realized that she'd never mentioned Priscilla and John's last name.


	4. Every Breath You Take

Chapter 4 - Every Breath You Take

They'd said their goodbyes, and then Cas, Gail and Kevin winked Sam and Dean to Egypt. Since it was a research-only mission, the others would stay behind. Frank and Jody had a lot of reconnecting to do with Rob, and Barry and Tommy, with each other. Since they were so close to ending things with Lucifer now, the men had decided to start talking about wedding venues, and possible dates.

Frank and Jody had a bit of a tough time trying to figure out what to do with Rob. They couldn't take him out anywhere; Cas had strictly forbidden anyone to take even a step outside the bunker. Frank guessed that made sense, after the way that Lucifer had just taken Gail, right in her own back yard. Even Rob seemed to realize that it would be a bad idea, so he hadn't even asked.

But it was hard to know what to do with Rob now. He wasn't a little kid any more, but he wasn't yet an adult. He could no longer be easily distracted by PG movies or board games, yet he wasn't old enough for Frank to sit down and knock a few back with, either. Which was a shame, actually. Deep down in his heart of hearts, Frank honestly thought that if he and Rob could just sit down and get drunk together, they could iron out a lot of their issues. Frank was a man's man, so he thought like one. But Rob wasn't a man, at least not yet, so that type of therapy would have to wait a few more years.

Rob saw his parents looking at each other, and it didn't take a psychic to figure out that they were wondering what the hell to do with him. So he decided to let them off the hook, in a manner of speaking. There was something he'd been wanting to ask them ever since everyone had gotten back, but with the frantic search for Aunt Gail, it had had to go on the back burner.

"Mom? Dad?" Rob said to them in his most ingratiating voice. "Would you do something for me?"

"Name it," Frank said laconically.

"Will you teach me how to fight?"

Jody and Frank looked at each other again, and Rob sighed. Here it came. You're too young. Wait a few more years. Blah, blah, blah.

"No way," Frank said, while Jody said, "I think that's a great idea."

The two adults continued to look at each other. "Why not?" Jody said to Frank, while Frank said, "You do?" to her.

Frank wasn't Rob's natural father, of course, but he'd clearly been very influential on the boy. This fact was demonstrated now when Rob's lips twitched. "Do you need me in the room for this conversation, or can I go get a soda?" Rob asked them.

Frank waved his hand absently. "Yeah, go get one. And do me a favour, Rob? When you go into the kitchen, try to convince those guys to have an informal wedding. Jeans and T-shirts. Tell them it's, like, the new trend, or something."

"Good luck with that, Dad. Barry's got a stack of bridal magazines as high as - well, me. And there isn't one pair of jeans in them," Rob said, smirking. Then he turned and left the room.

"Are you sure you're not that kid's natural father?" Jody said warmly, putting her hand on top of her husband's. "He gets more and more like you every day."

But Frank was frowning now. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Jody knew her husband very well, so she knew exactly what he was talking about. Still, she felt she had to protest: "Well, I think he could do a lot worse."

Frank put his other hand on top of Jody's. "Thanks for that. But you know what I mean. I thought we were trying to give him choices. Maybe he shouldn't get into the so-called family business, Jodes. It's a pretty suck-y life, when you look at the big picture."

"You know, I think that was going to be the original title of that Jimmy Stewart Christmas movie," Jody wisecracked.

"How dare you try to woo me with humour?" Frank said, pretending to be outraged.

"Is it working?" Jody asked him, smiling.

"Oh, totally. But we're supposed to be talking about Rob, now," Frank said.

"Look, Frank, I'm not saying we're going to prepare him to be a Hunter, or anything," Jody said with a sigh. "But I think we should at least teach him some self-defense techniques. Considering the kind of lives we lead, I think we'd be doing him a disservice as parents if we didn't."

Frank gave her a weary smile. "You've always been the smart one in this relationship." He leaned forward and kissed her.

"Ewww! Gross!" Rob exclaimed.

His parents held the kiss for another moment, smiling. At least Rob wasn't THAT grown up, yet. Then Frank stood, taking his wife by the hand. "Let's go to the training room," he said to his family.

The Angels and the Winchesters walked up the steps to the Coptic Museum.

Dean was a little choked, but he was trying to be cool about it. After the conversation he and Gail had just had back at the bunker, he didn't want to be perceived as being a whiner again so soon. It would take all the sincerity out of his apology. But what the hell was he gonna do in a museum? He'd much rather be using what little time they would have here to catch up with Nicole.

Cas was looking sidelong at the expression on Dean's face, waiting for the inevitable complaint. But none was forthcoming, which was extremely surprising. He was glad, though. He didn't want to have to argue with Dean so soon after the reminder that he and Gail had recently had about what a wonderful friend Dean had been to them back at the Colony. Cas wondered what had become of that version of Dean after Cas had died from the pressing and Dean had mercifully helped Gail to avoid the same horrible fate. It was funny, really, Cas thought with the darkest of humour. Most men wouldn't feel gratitude towards their best friend for ending their wife's life with a bullet to the head. Cas wasn't sure what that said about all of them and the way that circumstances had brought them together to lead their lives. But he did hope that Brother Winchester had gone on to lead a long and happy life.

Dean saw Cas smiling faintly at him. "What?" he asked his Angel friend suspiciously, as the group entered the building.

"Look at this place," Sam marveled. "I'll bet you there's a ton of ancient lore here."

"There is," a man said, approaching them from between the bookshelves. He was a dark-haired man who wore glasses, a short-sleeved white shirt, and a floral bow tie. Dean smirked. He was sure that if there was a dictionary here, and they looked up the word "nerd", he would see this guy's picture. "Didn't I see you in 'A Beautiful Mind'?" Dean quipped.

"You hated that movie," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, because I thought it was actually about spies, not just some guy losing his marbles," Dean retorted. Then he looked at the stranger. "No offense," he added unconvincingly.

"None taken," the man said, just as unconvincingly. But he stepped forward and offered his hand to Sam to shake, and then he shook with Cas, and Gail, and Dean as they all introduced themselves. Kevin had already wandered away to start looking for books on their subject. "My name's Stu," their new acquaintance said. "Can I help you find anything? I know the library area of this museum like I know the back of my hand."

"Not that you would know what that's like," Gail teased Sam gently, giving him a playful poke. Dean, however, thought this guy might be that familiar with his own hand for a different reason altogether. He reminded himself to tell Frank about that particular witticism later, when he and his friend were alone.

"Do you work here, Stu?" Gail was asking the man now.

"No, I just come here a lot, to do my research," Stu replied. "The curator lets me hang out here, and I help him with members of the public coming in, looking for information. You'll probably meet him in a few minutes; he went out to run a couple of errands a while back."

"What research?" Cas asked Stu.

"Huh? What?" Stu asked him distractedly.

"You said you were doing research," Cas said patiently. "What type of research?"

"I see things, everywhere," Stu said, somewhat eerily.

"O-kay," Dean said, rolling his eyes at Cas. It was just like he'd thought. Beautiful Mind. That guy had been a nutjob who'd spent a lot of time in libraries, too.

"What kinds of things do you see?" Cas prompted Stu, ignoring Dean.

"Numbers," the man replied reverently. "Numbers, everywhere. Explaining the events of the past, guiding us in our present, and foretelling the future. Numbers, all of them with the utmost significance. If you know where to look, and how to interpret what you see."

Cas was looking puzzled, so Sam clarified: "He's a numerologist, Cas. It's one of the divine arts, a mystical belief in the relationship between numbers and one or more coinciding events."

"That's what my research is based on," Stu said eagerly. "If you study many major events in history, you'll see that most of them could have been predicted, using numerology. Part of that involves studying the numerical value of the letters in words or names, to see what they can tell us."

Sam picked up the thread. "Many philosophers back in the day believed that numbers were the true universal language, because numbers don't lie."

As Stu looked at Sam with admiration, Cas said, "Yes, but statistics can be manipulated, and a great many things in history are interpretive."

Stu glared at Cas. "Not numbers, though. Numbers are pure," he stated firmly. "There are even some sacred numbers, like 7 and 3, that go back as far as the Bible."

Cas's eyebrows shot up. "Is that so?" he asked.

Gail's lips were twitching now. Talk about preaching to the choir.

But Cas was annoyed now. "What is so sacred about those numbers?" he asked Stu.

"Well, everyone knows it took God seven days to create the Earth," Stu said emphatically, "so, seven is obviously a very powerful number."

"It sure wasn't the last time I played craps," Dean joked.

"Yeah, Cas, everyone knows about Creation," Sam said, grinning. "So unless you were there or something, I guess you'll have to defer to our friend Stu, here."

"You can't argue with logic that sound," Gail said, smirking.

But Cas wasn't smiling. He was still looking at Stu. "Superstition and pseudo-science," Cas said dismissively.

The others looked at each other with amusement. They lived in a world of Demons, Angels, witches and spirits. Sam and Dean had a library at home to rival this one, stocked full of books on supernatural lore. They'd battled all kinds of horrible creatures, and they were all personally acquainted with Death. Yet Cas considered numerology to be superstition? How funny was that?

"Never mind him," Sam said affably. "I'd like to hear more about it." He threw Cas a look. If Stu spent as much time here as he claimed, he could be helpful to them. But why would he want to be, if they mocked his beliefs?

"Well, OK. I guess I did sound a little weird, there." Stu gave them a sheepish grin and a half-shrug. "I get carried away talking about the subject, sometimes. I admit that. But I'm not a whacko, or some kind of fanatic." He glanced at Cas. "Contrary to what some people think. Numerology can even be fun. Here, I'll show you a substitution code for the letters in your names."

He sat down at the library table and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen while the others gathered around him. "Let's find out what your numbers are." Stu looked up at Cas suspiciously, eyes narrowed as if daring him to make a derogatory comment. Cas sighed. He supposed Sam's look, which Cas had correctly interpreted, had merit. But he also felt like they were wasting time. Cas sighed again. He guessed another couple of minutes of diplomacy couldn't hurt. But after that, if this man had nothing constructive to offer, Cas was going to cut him loose.

"What is my number?" Cas asked the man, as patiently as he could.

"What's your name again? Cas?" Stu looked at his notes. "Your number is 311."

"It should be 9-1-1, the way Cas is looking at this guy," Dean said into Gail's ear, and she covered her mouth with her hand to keep from snickering out loud.

"It's a very good, solid number. And it leads off with one of the sacred numbers, so that's good," Stu continued.

"A sacred number. Imagine that, Cas," Sam said, grinning.

"And your wife's name is Gail, right?" Stu went on. Gail's smile faded, even as Sam and Dean's smiles widened. They all knew how much she disliked being talked about as if she weren't present.

Gail was thinking about that, too. She and Cas had just been through their reminiscence of an era when women were treated as non-persons, and she'd always been a little sensitive about the subject, anyway. And now she was beginning to understand why. She felt like she had a much more compelling case than many other contemporary women when it came to the issue of feminism, based on her experiences in other eras. And to Gail, it seemed like her gender still hadn't come that far, even after thousands of years. Not if stuff like this was any example.

"As much as I'm aware that my husband knows my name, maybe you want to be asking ME that question," she said testily.

"If you don't want your Egyptian ass kicked," Dean said, sotto voce. He was enjoying this immensely. It was certainly a lot more fun than he'd ever expected to have at a museum.

Stu looked puzzled by Gail's inflection. Obviously, he had no clue what he might have said that was wrong. Gail heaved a sigh. Maybe this guy dealt with numbers so much because he didn't know how to deal with people. "Yes, my name is Gail," she confirmed wearily.

He looked up her number eagerly. "Oh, I think that's a really good one," he said with excitement. "Yes. It's 7193. Interesting. It starts with a sacred number and ends with a sacred number."

"Look at you; you're a sacred sandwich," Dean wisecracked. Sam stuck out his hand, and the brothers high-fived. Then they both looked around for a moment, as if expecting Frank to materialize out of thin air to congratulate Dean on his witticism.

As Gail smirked at Dean's comment, Stu continued," "You and your husband share numbers. That's a sign of true romance."

Gail's smile turned genuine then, as she looked warmly at Cas. He couldn't help but smile back at her. Pseudo-science or not, they couldn't dispute the truth of that statement.

"Sam, your number is 114," Stu went on. "That's a powerful number, too. No sacred numbers, but what's interesting is that it's very similar to Cas's number, but it's backwards. Hmmm."

"What do you mean, 'hmmmm'?" Sam said, curious.

"Well, uh...usually when you see that, one of the guys is an ex-lover," Stu responded. He was squinting at the numbers, oblivious to the potential effect of his answer. "Is that the case?" he asked them offhandedly.

"No!" Sam exclaimed quickly. Gail looked at him with raised eyebrows. Sam's denial was true, of course, but maybe he didn't have to be quite that emphatic about it, she thought. Sam saw her expression, and he started to backpedal. "I mean, no, it never happened. Not that I wouldn't have liked it to happen, but..." Sam continued awkwardly. Now Gail looked mollified, but Cas's expression was darkening. "But, I mean, I would never," Sam babbled, looking from Cas to Gail, "well, I don't mean NEVER, I mean, I WOULD, but..." Sam was sweating bullets now. No matter what he said, he was pissing one of them off.

Dean thought his head was going to explode. Poor Sammy. In about two seconds, one of the Angels was going to zap Sam's babbling mouth right off of his face. Dean let his brother squirm for another minute, and then he got Sam off the hook by asking: "Hey, what's my number?"

Stu looked at Dean, and then back at the notepad. "Dean. 4515," he said. "You and Sam have your numbers in common, but you have an additional two 5's."

"Meaning I'm a perfect 10," Dean said, grinning.

"Are you sure the numbers don't say anything about Sam and Dean being in love?" Gail teased.

"Hey! What the hell?" Dean objected.

She shrugged. "Hey, Cas and I share numbers too, so I just thought..."

"You thought nothing," Dean retorted. "We could go back to comparing your numbers with Sammy's, if you want."

As Gail stuck her tongue out at Dean, Stu said, "Overall, there's one other interesting fact of note."

Interesting being relative, Gail thought wryly. Still, she wanted Dean to stay off the Sam subject, so she said, "Oh? What's that?"

"Sam and Dean each have an even number in their names, but Cas and Gail don't. They're strictly odd," Stu mused.

"Awesome," Dean said, laughing. "I've been telling Cas that for years! This is too funny."

"Frank is gonna kick himself for skipping this trip," Sam chipped in. "We should be writing these down."

"No, what you should be doing is shutting your faces," Gail said, pointing a finger at the brothers.

Cas rolled his eyes. He was so done with Stu and his numbers. "I'm going to look for Kevin," he announced. "Perhaps he has found something useful," he added, putting emphasis on the last word.

"So tell me, Stu: have you got any lucky numbers for roulette?" Dean asked the man hopefully.

"No," Stu replied, and Dean's face fell. "But I do have a statistical algorithm for blackjack," the numerologist added, and Dean perked up. "Couldja e-mail that to me?" Dean asked the man. "How reliable is it, do you think?"

"Many people believe in the system, Dean," Stu replied.

"Yeah, they're called casino owners," Sam said, grinning again.

Cas came back with Kevin in tow, and they were both frowning. "What's the matter?" Gail asked them.

"I checked the card catalogue, and there were supposed to be a couple of books that refer to those codices, but the books aren't in the section they said they were," Kevin said. "So I looked around, in case they were misfiled. But I couldn't find anything. I was wondering if they had been checked out, but they're from the Reference section, so they're not supposed to be taken off the premises."

"You said you were here to help members of the public," Cas said to Stu. "Can you tell us where these books might be?" He showed the piece of paper with the names of the books and the numbers of their location to the man.

"Card catalogue? Dewey Decimal system? Wow," Sam remarked. "I think we just stepped back in time."

"I have no idea what these books are, or where they could be," Stu said, shrugging. "But the numbers are fascinating."

"Never mind about the numbers, it's the books we want!" Cas exclaimed. The man was infuriating.

"Geez, you don't have to shout," Stu said, rolling his eyes. "Just ask the curator, then."

"But you said - " Cas took a deep breath. Lord, give him patience. "Fine. When will he be back?"

Stu pointed behind Cas. "There he is, right there," he said simply, as if the curator had been there the whole time.

Cas took another deep breath. Unbelievable. It was a good thing his human friends weren't as exasperating as this man, or he would have committed hara-kari with his Angel blade a long time ago.

Cas turned to look in the direction Stu was pointing, and his mouth dropped open.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Sheikh and his American friends," the curator said. "Or is it Yissa now?"

"Ibrahim?!" Cas exclaimed. He was surprised, to say the least. "You're the curator of the museum?"

Ibrahim walked towards Cas and his group. Cas extended his hand for a handshake, but Ibrahim waved him off. Instead, he embraced Cas, kissing the Angel on both cheeks. "It's strange to see you without your beard," Ibrahim remarked.

Cas was still flabbergasted, but he said haltingly, "I'm glad you made a full recovery. I suppose I should apologize for having deceived you, but believe me, it was for a very good cause."

"Why don't you all come to my office, where we can talk in private?" Ibrahim said. He led the way down a corridor at the opposite end of the library. Once they were all gathered in his office, Ibrahim smiled at Cas. "No apologies are necessary," the Egyptian man said. "It was due to you and your group that a lot of very important sacred objects were recovered from those tombs, and because you were still the heir in the government's view, they were all able to stay in the family name, instead of being taken by the government. Also, you men helped keep them out of the hands of the Bedouin rebels. And, you?" he continued, looking at Gail. "You brought me there in the first place, enabling me to view the splendour in its original venue. I was also able to describe everything that was there, as I lay recovering at the hospital, and claim it all as the representative of the Sheikh. As far as they're aware, you're back in America," he concluded, looking at Cas again.

Cas nodded, smiling faintly. "Well, that part is true. Once again, I'm sorry to have deceived you, but there are many things about my story that are also true. These people ARE my friends. You remember Sam and Dean, and this young man is Kevin, who is a...research assistant." He put his arm around Gail, kissing her on the cheek. "And this wonderful woman is now my wife, and her name is Gail."

Ibrahim's eyebrows rose. "Your wife?!" He frowned. "I am very sorry. I said some terrible things to you both when I thought...well, never mind what I thought. But in any event, perhaps you will now tell me your true identity. I know you are not the Sheikh, but I have seen pictures of you in various homes and businesses here, and they are calling you Yissa. So, tell me: Are you the Messiah?"

"It's complicated," Cas told his former manservant. "But no, I am not the Messiah, though many people here refer to me as such. My true name is Castiel. You can just call me that."

"Castiel," Ibrahim repeated. He said it slowly, as if trying the name on for size. "Castiel. "Well, Castiel, as I believe I mentioned, I owe you a debt of gratitude. There have since been new discoveries in another chamber at the site of the tomb where we were. I was fortunate enough to be there when they broke the ground. And now, I am here, as curator of this museum. All of the items that were found are on display here."

"No offense, but how'd you get from being a manservant to the curator of a museum?" Dean asked, curious.

"I have several University degrees," Ibrahim responded. "But as long as I was bound to serve the royal family, I could never aspire to be anything but a manservant. My family had served the Royals for generations. It was my legacy. But it's strange, really. When you showed up as the last known surviving member of the royal family, Castiel, you bound me to the palace once more. When you left, you set me free, but you also gave me the - cachet, as I believe the expression goes. So I employed my royal credentials, plus my education, and I wound up here. Now I make a very good living, but more importantly, I am able to gaze upon the treasures that we uncovered at the tomb site every single day, because they are on display here in the museum. I confess that I lied and told the Egyptian government that you had no desire to be contacted in America, but that your wishes were for everything to be exhibited here in the museum for all to see, so that future generations might be educated as to our history. I hope those white lies won't count against me when I am on the verge of rising to the Kingdom of Heaven, Yissa. I just thought that the treasures should be here on display, for all to enjoy, rather than in some greedy politician's hands, or worse, on the black market."

Cas nodded. He agreed with that sentiment. "I'm glad you're doing all right, Ibrahim - " he started to say, but Ibrahim interrupted him. "All right?!" his former manservant exclaimed. "I should say I'm doing all right! Due to the salary I earn here, I was able to buy the royal palace! I own it, now!"

Wow, Gail thought. Good for him. Cinderella had nothing on this guy. "Congratulations, Ibrahim," she said to him.

He looked at her. "I must apologize to you. I am from a different culture, and a different generation than you are. But, I am trying my best to become more enlightened. That was one reason I wanted to work in a bigger city, Mrs. - ?" he trailed off.

"Gail is fine," she said, smiling.

Ibrahim looked briefly to Cas for confirmation, and Cas nodded. It was still hard for the older Egyptian man to call a woman he barely knew by her first name. But Ibrahim knew from experience that Americans were different. They came in here as tourists to view the sacred artifacts, and both the men and the women wore jeans. The American women came into the museum with uncovered faces, showing much more skin than was proper in his culture. At least when Gail had been here, she had kept her face covered in public, and she had worn an appropriate amount of clothing.

"Gail," Ibrahim acknowledged with a nod. "As I said, I am trying to become more enlightened. I apologize to you for the rudeness I showed when you were here before."

"Thank you, Ibrahim. That means a lot to me," Gail said to him. And it did, because she realized that it was a big deal for him to come out and say that to her.

"I wonder if you can do us a favour," Cas said to Ibrahim. He stepped forward, showing the curator the piece of paper with the book titles on it. "Can you tell us where these books are?"

Ibrahim squinted at the piece of paper. "Oh. Yes. I pulled them from the shelves," he said.

"You pulled them? Why?" Kevin blurted out.

Ibrahim looked at him coolly for a moment, but then he responded, "Because the so-called 'sacred writings' are a lie. The codices are forgeries."

Cas was startled. "Really? But the Internet said - "

"The Internet?" Ibrahim scoffed. "You cannot believe everything you see on the Internet."

"Where are those codices now?" Sam asked him.

"As they were established to be forgeries, we have removed them from display. They are somewhere in the storeroom, I imagine. I was contemplating burning them, but as the papyrus they're written on is itself of historic value, I couldn't quite bring myself to do it."

"Can we look at them, at least?" Cas persisted.

"Why would you want to do that?" Ibrahim said dismissively. "They are proven forgeries. That would just be a waste of your time."

Cas considered that for a moment. He supposed that his former manservant was right. Apparently, they'd been chasing zebras. But they were here in Egypt now, so he supposed he could allow a brief visit to the movie set. Besides, Gail's point about checking in with Metatron was well taken. "All right," Cas said, standing up from his chair. "We will be going, then. It was good to see you again, and to see you doing so well, Ibrahim."

"Thank you, Castiel," the curator said. "I have a lot of work to do. Would you mind seeing yourselves out?"

"Not at all," Cas said, and then Gail said, "'Bye, Ibrahim. It was good to see you. I'm happy you're happy here."

After the group left his office, Ibrahim let out the breath he'd been holding. Castiel! The Sheikh, aka Yissa, was the Angel Castiel, the very one that the Archangel Raguel had warned him about. If Castiel showed up to the museum, Ibrahim was to tell him that the codices were forgeries, and that he was wasting his time. And if the curator did not do this, Raguel would destroy the museum and all of its treasures with a wave of his hand. Then he had performed a little demonstration to show Ibrahim that he was as good as his word by waving his hand and collapsing the Cairo Opera House, but not before he had seized Ibrahim and winked him over there, so he could see the destruction first-hand. The news had reported an apparent earthquake in the area, though it could not be explained why nothing else in the area had been damaged, nor any seismic activity detected.

Then Raguel had returned Ibrahim to his museum and instructed him to rebuff Castiel, should he show up looking for the codices. And Ibrahim should remove any books that made reference to them, too. Raguel didn't want anyone to show up looking for the sacred writings before he was ready to look at them himself.

Ibrahim thought about Raguel's visit for a while after Castiel left. He had mixed feelings about having lied to the man he had once known as the Sheikh. On the one hand, Castiel had deceived Ibrahim, had him whipped, and brought the plagues down on Ibrahim's people. But had it not been for Castiel, Ibrahim wouldn't be where he was today. He had been telling the absolute truth about that part. Also, Castiel had brought him to the hospital from the tombs, saving his life. He still had no idea who or what Castiel really was; apparently, he was different things to different people. But Raguel had made it plain what could happen to Ibrahim and his beloved treasures if he did not obey.

Ibrahim sighed. He didn't know why Castiel had been inquiring about the codices, and he didn't particularly care. He was going to look after himself, now. He picked up a pen and began to work on his correspondence.

Gabriel was also in Egypt, of course. He had been following Raguel's trail to see what his fellow Archangel had been up to, and whether or not he was any closer to finding the Books. It didn't seem like he was, but Gabriel was uneasy. Why was Raguel sniffing around museums and ancient burial sites? Was he fishing, or did he have some specific intel?

But now, Gabriel was picking up another signal, one that was almost as strong as Raguel's. Castiel! And Gail, and a lesser Angel, as well. Gabriel winked himself over there and, sure enough, they were coming down the steps of the museum, and they had the Winchesters with them.

Gabriel kept himself invisible to them, listening to their conversation.

"That was weird," Sam was saying.

"Yeah. That guy Stu was a riot, though," Dean remarked.

"I'm not talking about him, I'm talking about Ibrahim," Sam said, frowning. "There was just something about what he said about those codices. It was too glib. He didn't even ask us why we wanted to see them. It just felt like he was trying to get rid of us, or something. What do you think, Cas? You knew him the best."

Cas thought about it for a moment. Truthfully, he didn't know Ibrahim as well as Sam seemed to think he did. But he didn't see any reason why the man would lie to them, either. "I think we were looking for zebras, Sam," he sighed. "Let's go to the movie set."

They all joined hands and the Angels winked the Winchesters out of there as Gabriel thought about the conversation he'd just witnessed. Codices? Interesting. That had to have something to do with the Lucifer mission. That was Castiel's focus now, and rightly so. That was why Gabriel hadn't said anything to his Brother about Raguel trying to get his grubby hands on the Books. Lucifer needed to be dealt with. There were too many black pieces on the board right now. Once their Brother was back in the cage, Gabriel could sit down with Castiel and then they could devise a plan to deal with Raguel, Timma/Ammit, and the third man, the mystery player, who was still operating in the shadows.

Gabriel winked himself away.

"It's so great to see you all again!" Nicole enthused. She hugged all of them in turn. "I was so worried about everyone."

"You needn't worry about us," Cas said to her. "We'll always be fine."

"Yeah, between these guys' powers, and Sammy and me and Frank and Jody and our weapons, we're gonna kick you-know-who's ass," Dean assured Nicole. He had his arm around her waist, and now he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Who? Voldemort?" Nicole and Sam said at the same time. They smiled at each other. "Jinx. You owe me a coffee," Nicole said to Sam.

"I'll get you some coffee, if you want," Cas offered. "I saw Richard in the craft services tent, and I'd like to say hello to him. Dean?"

"Yeah, I'll take a coffee," Dean said. He wasn't looking at Cas when he said it, though; he was still looking at Nicole. Let Cas see what that was like, for a change. Besides, Dean just wanted to drink in the sight of Nicole's face. It was so seldom that the two of them got to see each other. He was trying to figure out how to get Major Buzzkill otherwise occupied for an hour or so, while he and Nicole got caught up. Maybe he'd see if he could enlist Gail's help with that.

"I'll be right back, my love," Cas said to Gail, giving her a squeeze.

"OK, Cas," she replied, smiling at him. "We're just going to stand over there and watch. The guys who play Sam and Dean are supposed to be doing something called 'blocking'."

Nicole made a face. "It's not very exciting. But in an hour or so, we're supposed to be filming another action scene, so if you're able to stay till after lunch, you can watch that."

"We'll see," Cas said shortly. He gave Gail a quick kiss on the forehead and headed back towards the craft services tent.

The remainder of the group proceeded forward to where the filming was going to be taking place. The actors were hanging around, waiting for the director to tell them they could get into position. This was the first time that Gail had ever seen the man who played Dean up close, and she couldn't get over the resemblance. There were a couple of subtle differences, as with the actor who played Sam, but if a person wasn't really paying close attention, they could easily mistake one man for the other.

Nicole introduced them to the actors. It was very funny to see the actors looking at the brothers, and vice versa.

"I hope you don't think I'm being too forward, but you're a very good-looking guy," Sam said to his double.

"That's funny, because I was going to say the same thing about you," the actor responded, grinning.

Dean looked at his counterpart calmly. He was thinking along those same lines, actually. Nicole had told Dean that all of the principal actors on the show were married, with kids. The guy who played Cas was noticeably absent. Dean asked Nicole where he was.

"Oh, he's running around here someplace," Nicole said. "He'll probably be here in a couple of minutes." She looked at Gail. "Oh, and he asked me to tell you and Cas that he's still interested in doing that selfie with the both of you."

"I'd like that," Gail said, smiling. "I'll tell you what; I'll go get Cas and bring him back here. Maybe we can get the picture quickly, before we have to leave."

She turned around and walked towards the craft services tent. Cas was coming out of there, balancing three take-out styrofoam coffee cups in his hands. "Oh, there you are," Gail said to him. "Did you see Richard?"

He smiled at her pleasantly. "He must be around here, somewhere," he replied.

Suddenly, Cas's cell phone rang, and Gail dug into her pocket to answer it. She had borrowed it from him back at the bunker to enter a couple more contact numbers onto his list. Cas was an intelligent, extremely capable man, but he had a bit of a blind spot when it came to data entry, it seemed. It had taken him literally years and years to finally set up Voice Mail on the device, and he'd been lax as far as entering their friends' phone numbers into it. Lately, Gail had taken it upon herself to try to keep the list up to date.

She glanced at the screen. Unknown number. "Hello?" she answered cautiously. But it was someone looking for "Harold". She told the caller that they had the wrong number and hung up. Then she swiped the screen and looked at the apps. "Nicole told me we can take a selfie or two, but I can't find - "

Gail thrust the phone at him. "Here, can you find the photo app for me? You know I'm no good at that sort of thing."

He was surprised, but this was Cas's wife, after all. That must mean that Cas was here as well, and the actor had promised to take a selfie with them. So he juggled the coffees to take the phone from her. He'd been bringing the cups of coffee for himself and the actors who played Sam and Dean to drink while they were hanging around waiting for blocking to begin.

But Gail had thought he was Cas, bringing coffee back for Nicole and the real Sam and Dean. She hadn't looked at him that closely because she'd been distracted by the real Cas's cell phone ringing.

As the actor peered at the phone screen, trying to find the photo app, Gail moved forward and hugged him around the waist. Then she stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, sweetie," she said. Now the coffees he was still holding were sloshing around in their cups, and he was trying not to drop them, or the phone. Gail still hadn't looked closely at him because now, she was looking at the phone in his hand.

"Not that I don't think you're sweet, but I'd prefer it if you didn't do that," the actor said in a gentle voice. "My kids are on set today, and I don't want them getting the wrong idea. Besides, I know that Cas is mild-mannered and all, but I've seen the way that guy handles weapons. Why take a chance?"

The actor was grinning now, but Gail froze. She slowly looked up at his face. "Dammit! I did it again!" she exclaimed. "You're not my husband!" You just play him on TV, she was tempted to add, but she didn't. None of the actors knew that she and Cas were actual Angels. Only Richard and Nicole did. And Zoey, but when the group had first gotten here, Nicole had told them that Zoey had gotten another job while production had been shut down, and the young girl hadn't returned.

"I can't believe I did it again," Gail repeated, grinning sheepishly.

"That's OK. It's actually kind of funny," the actor said.

They stood there looking at each other for a minute. "Ummmm..." he said, and she realized that she was still touching him. "Oh. Sorry," she said, moving back from him. "Oh, and...sorry," she said again lamely, taking Cas's cell phone back from him. He'd spilled half of the coffee, now.

The actor was still smiling. "That's all right," he said. He leaned over to put the cups of coffee on the ground, then took a napkin out of his pants pocket and began to wipe his hands with it. Gail winced. Hopefully the coffee hadn't burned him. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"You must be Canadian, seeing as you're apologizing so much," he remarked, half-smiling.

Gail caught herself about to apologize again. She smiled inwardly. She would have to ask Nicole to tie a bow around this guy's finger or something, so this didn't happen again. Or maybe she should just pay closer attention, next time. Cas and this guy looked very much alike, but they weren't identical. Maybe she should ask the actor to take off his clothes next time, Gail thought mischievously. Then she'd be sure to know the difference.

He saw her smiling, and she made herself snap out of it. This guy was married, with kids who were apparently here somewhere. Besides, she'd really only been fantasizing about her own husband, anyway, when it came right down to it.

"I'm going to go find Cas," she told the actor. "We'll see you in a bit." Then she walked away. He turned back to look at her, bemused. Then he bent to pick up the coffee cups and walked off in the opposite direction.

Gail found Cas a little further down in the row of tents when she heard his voice, and then Metatron's. She opened the tent flap to see the two of them bending over at the table, looking at the pictures of the Tablets on Metatron's computer. Sam had sent them to him via e-mail before they'd left the bunker, to avoid the hassle of Sam having to bring his own laptop.

"Oh, hello, Gail," Metatron said absently, glancing up as she entered the tent.

She stood still for a moment. How strange it was to see her husband and Metatron standing peacefully, collaborating, with nary a death threat between them.

When Cas had left the group, he had originally intended to speak with Richard and get the coffees for his human friends. But as he'd been walking back to the craft services tent, he'd seen Metatron heading into this tent, and Castiel had deemed that talking to Metatron was more important. As the codices had turned out to be a dead end, Cas wanted to ask Metatron if he had any idea where in New York City Lucifer's blade might be hidden.

"You spent all that time with him in the cage," Castiel had pointed out. "You probably know him the best. What do you think?"

Metatron had frowned. "I have no idea, Castiel," he'd said. "Nobody ever gets to know Lucifer, not any more than he wants you to. Besides, wouldn't it be God who placed the blade? Shouldn't we try to think like Him, then?"

"I suppose you have a point," Cas had mused. "Where might our Father have hidden something like that?"

"Maybe we should take a look at the writings on the Tablets," Metatron had suggested. "As you've told me they're all to be combined in some way, maybe the answer will be on the Tablets."

That had sounded logical enough to Cas, so that's what they'd been doing when Gail had walked in.

"I wish I knew who wrote these Tablets," Metatron was saying now. "If we knew that, we might be able to identify their writing style. I wrote mainly in code, but this person uses rhyming couplets, sort of like Nostradamus might have, back in the day. Their knowledge of the ancient language is extensive though, that's for sure." He squinted at the computer screen. "There's something here on the Hell Tablet that bears further examination. But it'll take some further study. Leave it with me, Castiel. I also have to finish the rewrites I've been working on. Richard wants them by this afternoon."

"Rewrites!" Castiel exclaimed, agitated. "We need to get this blade, to finish Lucifer, and you're talking about a movie script?!"

"Relax, Cas," Metatron said, holding his hands up in supplication. "The passage I'm looking at doesn't refer to the location of his blade, but rather, the application of it. You'll have to have it in your hands first, before you can use whatever method this Tablet is talking about. I'll have it figured out by then, I'm sure. But they wanted two different versions of the movie's ending. We've already filmed the one, where everybody comes out of Egypt unscathed. Now, they want one where Sam drinks the waters of the Nile and picks up some kind of ancient Egyptian virus. They wanted to end the movie on a cliffhanger. The year we had off was very educational for some of the show's producers and behind-the-scenes people. Richard was able to secure a three-picture commitment from the studio. I guess they did some market research and found out that there was a ton of interest in the franchise, so they wanted to lock it up while they could. So, now that we're officially a film franchise, I'll have some job security for a while. I've got a whole bunch of ideas in a notebook, and now I've started a second one. I'm still trying to pitch them on Cas getting a girlfriend."

"I don't know if that'll ever fly, Ted," Richard said, entering the tent. He stopped short, seeing Cas and Gail. "What are you two doing here?"

"Didn't Nicole tell you we were visiting today?" Cas said evasively.

"Yes, she did, Cas. I was wondering what you were doing HERE, in Ted's tent," Richard said.

Cas and Gail looked at Metatron, then at each other. No one on the movie's staff knew who or what Metatron really was, though Richard did know that Cas and Gail were Angels.

Gail thought fast. "Ted saw the two of us kissing outside, and he wanted to ask our opinion on making Cas having a girlfriend in the movies believable."

Metatron smiled with relief. "Yes, that's right. Since Cas looks so much like Castiel, or the actor who plays him, I should say, I wanted to find out a little bit more about their relationship. That way, if you guys ever decided we could write a female companion in for Castiel, I wanted to do some research on what their relationship might look like."

"Oh." Richard nodded. He guessed he could see that. Actually, the idea had been kind of growing on him. Maybe once they'd finished this movie, he would ask Ted to pitch it to the group again. "Can you come out to blocking with us, Ted? 'Sam' doesn't know exactly how his character is supposed to be feeling, or the way he's supposed to be acting towards his brother, or Cas. We need those new pages for this afternoon's shoot, but in the meantime, if you can explain what's going to be happening to the actors, they can start to prepare."

"Sure, I'll be right there," Metatron told Richard. They stood there for a moment. Then Richard said, "Okay. See you over there, then." He walked back out of the tent.

"Phew." Metatron said. "That was close. Thanks, Gail."

She nodded. "Sure. There's no point in blowing your cover. But Cas is right, what we're doing is the priority, here. Maybe the last year was merely 'educational' for all of you guys, but it was absolute hell for us. We need to wrap this up, Metatron. Whatever it takes."

"I agree," he said. "I promise, as soon as I deal with the rewrite, I'll get right on the study of those Tablets. You know I don't sleep, so I'll be able to work on them 24/7. I've got Cas's number, just in case I can't reach him on our frequency, or I can text any information I come up with."

Cas sighed. He supposed that would have to be good enough for now. He took Gail's hand and the three of them walked out of Metatron's tent.

As soon as they got outside, they felt it right away. Cas's and Metatron's heads snapped up immediately, and Gail could feel something too, though not quite as strongly as the men. Metatron looked at Castiel. "Archangel?" he said doubtfully.

Cas gave him a half-nod. He explained about their having discovered Gabriel in Area 51, and the fact that their Brother was currently roaming the Earth on some kind of a mysterious mission.

"Why doesn't he just show himself, then? Why all the intrigue?" Metatron asked. He was irritated, looking around the skies as if trying to spot the Archangel. But Gabriel had always been an odd duck, and if he chose to remain invisible, they would never be able to see him.

"I asked him that, too," Cas said, frowning. "All I got was the kind of non-answer we usually give to humans. What Sam and Dean might call AngelSpeak."

Metatron's eyes narrowed. "Either that, or he doesn't want to show up while I'm here. I know how hated I am in Heaven. Don't get me wrong; I know that's for a good reason. And I know how lucky I am that you've given me a chance to show my reformation. But I'm sure most Angels wouldn't be so charitable, and Gabriel is one of the few who could give me a real contest, if he chose. You might want to tell him the next time you see him that I work for the good guys now. I'd hate to get obliterated when we're this close to taking Lucifer down."

Cas nodded. "Your point is well taken. I'll tell him the next time that I see him."

Raguel's eyes widened. So, Metatron was helping Castiel with Lucifer? Weel, wasn't that interesting? The phrase about old dogs and new tricks was running through his mind now.

And he was amused by the fact that Gabriel had been freed by Castiel and his little wife, and that his fellow Archangel was on a mission he was keeping from Castiel. Raguel knew very well what that mission was, of course: it was preventing Ragual from getting the Books. Gabriel didn't worry him, though. He'd kicked his Brother's ass once, and he could do it again, all day long. But the fact that three Original Angels were obviously combining to take down Lucifer did worry him. In fact, it concerned him a lot. On the one hand, if they were keeping themselves concerned with Lucifer, that could only be good for Raguel. But on the other hand, if they did manage to dispatch Lucifer, what was to stop them all from teaming up and coming after him, next? And, what of Crowley, the other Original? Perhaps the King would side with Lucifer in the upcoming conflict, but even if he did, Raguel knew that Crowley only ever looked out for Crowley. If Lucifer thought he could trust Crowley not to turn on him when the time was right, the Devil was dreaming. That was why it was essential to Raguel that he himself be the one to obtain the Books. He was well aware that the Demon goddess Ammit was after the Books too, and while the Archangel knew it would be foolish to underestimate her, he was more concerned about the third player. No one knew much of anything about this man, only that he favoured dressing in black, to match his dark hair and his dark grin. Raguel could sense this man's malevolent presence. He was surprised that Castiel couldn't, though to be fair, any evil vibes that Castiel felt at the moment, he would probably simply ascribe to Lucifer.

Like pretty much all of the other principals, Raguel didn't have a problem with Castiel and company getting rid of Lucifer. The Devil was a petulant brat who didn't play well with others, but he was also the Alpha Original, and he had prodigious powers. Yes, the sooner Lucifer was gone, the better. So Raguel would leave Castiel alone for now, to do the dirty work. But after that, all bets were off.

"I think you should go to New York anyway," Metatron was telling Cas and Gail on their walk to the spot where blocking was taking place. "I'll continue to study the Tablet markings, and you can have Sam and Kevin do the same. Have you studied your blades, and mine?"

"Yes, I have," Cas said, pursing his lips. "I couldn't see anything that would pertain to this situation."

"What about Crowley's blade?" Metatron inquired.

"What about it?" Cas said irritably. "How should I know what's on it? It's not as if he's just going to hand it to me to study."

"He wants to get rid of Lucifer too, doesn't he?" Metatron persisted.

Cas shrugged. "He claims he does, but he has turned on us before."

"But if you think it would be of benefit to us, we'll go talk to him and ask," Gail chipped in, throwing Cas a look.

"It couldn't hurt," Metatron said. "Now, remember, my name is Ted, and I'm a human."

They came upon the place where the actors were. The director was telling them where he wanted them to stand, and the crew was setting up the lights, and testing out camera angles.

"Daddeee! Come on and play! This is boring!" a young boy exclaimed. He ran up to the actor who played Cas, holding his younger sister by the hand.

"I'll be done in just a minute," their father said to them. The kids attached themselves to his legs, and he smiled patiently. The director wasn't so amused, however. "Look, I like kids as much as the next guy, but we've got to finish," he said, frustrated.

The actor had a sheepish grin on his face. Maybe he shouldn't have brought the kids, but he had wanted them to see some of the historic sights in Egypt. So he and his wife had brought them here for a few days. But his wife had wanted a day to herself to visit a couple of the museums in peace, she'd told him. That was a reasonable request, in his opinion. He loved spending time with his children, but they were a handful, and because he was busy filming this movie, his wife had been the primary caregiver this whole time. But his kids were very young, and he suspected that they were tired, too. If only he could get them to have a bit of a nap for a short time. Then he could finish blocking without having them running around here like little hellions.

He looked up and saw Cas and Gail. This could be his answer. "Do you want to meet my body double?" he said to the kids. Technically, Cas wasn't his double any more, but any port in a storm. "Remember, I told you about the guy who looks like me, who does all the fights and things?" He looked at Cas, who smiled and came forward. "Hello," Cas said to the kids.

They looked back and forth from their Dad to Cas, open-mouthed. Everyone smiled, even the director. Their amazement was just too cute.

"Your father has something he has to do right now," Cas said to the kids. "We must be quiet."

The kids nodded silently. Maybe it was the fact that Cas looked a lot like their father. He was even dressed like their father normally dressed, in a shirt and blue jeans. Their dad was in costume at the moment, so in a strange way, Cas looked more like their dad to them than their dad did, at the moment.

"I know I'm probably pushing my luck here but is there any way you can take these two monsters to my trailer and sit with them for a few minutes?" the actor said to Cas. He tickled his children, making them giggle. "If we can't get them to go down for a nap, at least we can get them out of here until we finish." He looked at the director. "Jack is gonna kill me."

"I can get them to have a nap, if you'd like," Cas said, with a faint smile.

The actor sighed with relief. "Could you? That would be great."

"Leave it to me," Cas said. "Where is your trailer?" The actor gave him directions, and Cas looked down at the children. "If you two will come with me, we will wait for your father in his trailer."

The kids looked up at their dad, who nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead. Go with Cas. It's OK."

"Cas?!" his son exclaimed. "That's your name on the show!"

"That's right," his father said, smiling. "Isn't that an amazing coincidence?"

"My Dad wants us to settle down," the boy said in a grown-up voice. "We'll show you where his trailer is. Maybe you can read us a story, or something."

The kids pulled Cas past where a highly amused Gail stood. "I'll wait here," she said, her lips twitching furiously.

Once they'd entered the trailer, the kids were getting rambunctious again. "Your father wants you to take a nap," Cas told them.

"Noooo," the girl wailed. "I don't want to!"

"Yeah," the boy agreed. "I don't want to, either. Let's play a game." He started jumping up and down, and his sister copied him.

Cas took a deep breath and counted to ten. He didn't have the time, or the patience. "Your father requested that you both take a nap," he tried again, in a firmer voice.

But the children didn't seem to care. They kept jumping up and down, and now, the boy was shouting, too. He jumped onto Cas's lap, and his foot hit a very sensitive area. "OK, that's it," Cas said, wincing. "The two of you are going to go to sleep, right now." He extended his arms and touched them both on the forehead. He caught the girl before she crumpled to the floor, and he grabbed the boy around the waist. Both of the children were unconscious now. Cas carried them over to the couch and gently laid them down.

"That's better," he said softly. He'd put them to sleep using the two-finger system, knowing there would be no lasting effect. The kids would wake up feeling refreshed in an hour or so, with no harm done. But in the meantime, Cas would have peace and quiet. He sent Gail a message on Angel Radio and then sat down in the chair beside the couch, picking up a book from the coffee table.

About twenty minutes later, the children's father showed up, accompanied by Gail. The actor stood stock-still in amazement, looking at his children sleeping peacefully on the couch.

"How did you do that?" he asked Cas.

Cas shrugged, rising to his feet. "I have a gift," he said simply.

"I'd say so," the actor remarked. "They never go down when I want them to."

Cas looked past him to Gail. She was smirking. She could just bet she knew how he had done it.

The actor smiled. "I wish you still worked with us, Cas. Maybe, if they paid you a bit more, you could be a child wrangler, as well."

Cas smiled. "I'm happy to help. But we have to leave now. It was nice to see all of you again." He took Gail's hand and they left the trailer to go back and collect their friends.

"Did you see the look on his face?" she said, laughing. "He was telling me there was no way you were going to be able to get them to go to sleep. He hurried the director up, 'cause he said his kids were going to drive you nuts."

"That's why Angels make excellent babysitters," Cas said, giving her hand a brief squeeze. Then his expression turned serious. "I hope Sam, and especially Dean, aren't too disappointed, but unless Metatron has anything further to add, I think we should leave."

Crap. Gail had been hoping to help Dean get a bit more time with Nicole before they had to go. She had told them that she was going to try to convince Cas to let them stay until they were due to film the action scene, after the lunch break. That would buy the couple just over an hour. "Can't we stay and see the scene they're filming just after lunch?" she asked Cas now. "It's only about an hour from now."

Cas looked sidelong at her. "Is that you who's asking, or Dean?"

Gail made a face. "Well, OK, it's for Dean," she answered honestly. "But it's been over a year since they've seen each other, Cas. We both know how hard that is. It's only an hour. Can't we just let them have a quick visit together?"

Cas sighed. He supposed so. She'd really gotten to him with her comment about how difficult it was to be apart for that long. "All right, Gail," he said softly. "I think we can give Brother Winchester an hour."

Gail stopped walking. She turned to her husband. "Actually, since we've got an hour or so, there's something else I'd like to do, instead." She told him what she had in mind, and he smiled. "I would really like to do that, too," Cas said, smiling at her warmly. "I'll ask Metatron if he will stay with Sam and Kevin for a few minutes, while we sneak off together." He put his arms around his wife and kissed her. "You are the sweetest person I have ever met," Cas told her. Gail kissed him back, and then they finished walking to the place where they had been before. The actors were gone, and so were Nicole and Dean, but there were quite a few crew members bustling around, setting up for that afternoon's shooting.

Metatron had been talking quietly to Sam and Kevin, looking around to make sure they weren't being overheard. They were eyeing him warily. Cas obviously trusted him now, but it was still going to take them a while to get used to the idea.

"Your concordance is a very good idea, Kevin," Metatron was saying to the young Angel. "Once we've wrapped, I should be able to help you with it. We'll get all those passages deciphered in no time."

Without saying exactly where he and Gail planned to go, Cas told the men that they were taking a trip somewhere, and that they would probably only be gone a few minutes. "If you'll stay here with them for protection," Cas said quietly to Metatron, "just in case, we can be reached on Angel Radio or on the Originals' frequency if there is any trouble."

Metatron agreed, and then Cas took Gail's hand. They walked over to one of the equipment trucks, rounded the corner, and then disappeared.

Nicole had taken Dean to the makeup trailer, locking the door behind them. As the movie was almost finished, Richard hadn't bothered replacing Zoey. The only ones who had any scenes left to shoot, besides the extras who would be in the action sequence, were the three principal actors. Nicole was experienced enough by now that she could get all three men ready very quickly, and they were going to stay in costume over the lunch break. Therefore, she and Dean had the trailer all to themselves for the better part of an hour, and they planned to make the most of it.

"I wish we had more time," Dean was saying. "When all of this junk is over, you and I will get together for a weekend, at least. And I won't tell anybody where we are, not even Sammy."

Nicole turned to look at him, smiling. "It's a date," she said. "And make sure you get rid of Lucifer by the release date of the movie. I want you all to come to the premiere. You can dust off your fake FBI suit, right?"

"I might even wear a tux," Dean said, smiling slowly.

Nicole approached him. "So, what do you want to talk about? World events? Who's going to win the pennant this season?"

Dean grabbed her. "How about if we just do this, instead?" He kissed her on the mouth, wrapping his arms around her waist. He opened her lips with his tongue, and she made a sound in her throat.

"Is there anywhere we can - " Dean said in a thick voice.

Nicole looked at the rack of costumes. "Thank God flannel is soft," she said, grinning mischievously.

While Dean and Nicole were making love on the pile of flannel shirts, Cas and Gail winked over to Dejuan's village. It was a clear day with a bit of a breeze in the air, and the Angels had their fingers crossed.

They heard children's laughter off in the distance, and they moved towards the sound. There was an open field at the end of the dirt road where Dejuan's house was, and it was there that they found him. There were a dozen or so children in the field with the boy, and they were all taking turns flying the Angel kite that Cas and Gail had given him at Christmastime.

A very young boy was holding the string now, and Dejuan was showing him how to play out the line so the wind would catch the kite's wings. The smaller child did as Dejuan showed him and a moment later, there was an updraft. The kite soared skywards, and the children clapped and cheered. The look of amazement on the younger child's face, and the smile on Dejuan's, were so sweet and so pure that Gail had to put her hand over her mouth to stop a sob from escaping.

Cas put his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her softly on her head. "I understand," he said around the lump in his throat. "I feel the same way. That is why I'm so stern about the mission, sometimes. I want those childrens' only worry to be whether there will be enough wind to make their kite soar. Let there be peace on Earth, and let it begin with me."

The Angels watched Dejuan and his playmates for a while longer, smiling through their tears. Then Cas took her hand and winked them both away.

The curator's friends were long gone, but Stu was still staring at their numbers. There had been something very unique about the quartet that Stu couldn't quite put his finger on, and he was puzzling about it now.

The couple, Cas and Gail, had had an aura about them, an almost ethereal quality. But Stu dealt strictly in numbers, not horoscopes or psychic readings. Cas had called numerology superstition, but those were the real superstitions, as far as Stu was concerned. He wished he had asked them for their birthdates. That would have given him more numbers to work with. Your birthdate was a very personal, unchangeable number. If you didn't like your name, you could change it, thereby changing your numbers, as well. But you could not change the date you had been born. Of course, Cas and Gail might beg to differ, there. What kinds of numbers had there been back at the time of Creation itself? 1? 0? And Gail had no idea what her true birthdate was. Just because they'd always acknowledged it on October 3rd didn't necessarily make it so.

Stu was studying Gail's numbers now. He hadn't had the chance to tell her everything he saw there, nor any of them, really. 7193. The number 7 usually denoted a loner, someone who had spent much time in solitude. And Cas had two number 1's. Stu should have asked him if "Cas" was a diminutive of another name. The number 1 usually represented a bit of an arrogant, self-serving individual, and two-thirds of Cas's numbers were 1's. But even though Cas had belittled Stu's beliefs, the vibe the man gave off was more benevolent than arrogant, although there had definitely been undertones of the latter, too. Hmmm.

Gail had a 1 in her name too, but she also had a 9. 9s and 7s were old souls, Stu was aware. A 9 was generally a selfless individual, but she also had a 1, creating a kind of duality. If Stu had been able to dispense some free advice, he would have told her that if a 9 tried to behave like a 1, more often than not that person would wind up desperately unhappy. And the fact that she had a 19 right in the middle of her name made Stu feel badly for her. The number 19 denoted a karmic debt, in a manner of speaking. Only time could balance something like that out. The older the soul, the more time that would take.

Meanwhile, the 3 in Cas's name also created a bit of a duality with the number 1. The number 3 was usually associated with a person who had the ability to speak to many different kinds of people, including charming the pants off the opposite sex, if they so chose. Stu grinned. Cas had better be careful in that regard, though. His wife's middle number was 1, which also meant that she wouldn't put up with much b.s. from her husband. She'd been a little thing, he thought with amusement, but sometimes, dynamite came in small packages.

Stu's smile faded when he looked at Sam and Dean's numbers, though. He'd sensed something different coming from them too, though again, he couldn't put his finger on it. They both had the number 4 in their names. That was a "karmically challenged" number, to be politically correct about it. He wasn't a PC kind of guy, so if asked, he would categorize it as an unlucky number. The brothers had seemed, on the surface, to be normal guys. But when you looked at their numbers more closely, they showed that both men had grave danger surrounding them. Stu hoped their health insurance premiums were up to date.

He gave his head a shake. Why was he so obsessed with this? Ibrahim had crossed the floor a few minutes ago on his way to the museum proper, and he had told Stu that the people he was currently obsessing about would probably not be returning. Stu folded the piece of paper, tapped it on the table for a moment, and then dropped it in the recycle bin.


	5. New York State Of Mind

Chapter 5 - New York State Of Mind

Even though God had checked out for a while, He was aware of what had been going on, of course. He was the Supreme Being, after all. He knew that Gabriel and Raguel were running around the Earth, and that there were other entities who had yet to make their presence felt. But the era of Lucifer was finally, mercifully, nearing its conclusion, and He had to pay closer attention now. Castiel's group were going to New York City to get Lucifer's blade. God knew exactly where the blade was, of course. He ought to; He was the one who had put it there. But He had been following his children's exploits all throughout the Tablet missions and, although He could have helped them out at any time, God was of the opinion that the trials they had gone through to obtain the Tablets had been character-building. It was generally a cliche that God helped those who helped themselves, and He was prepared to drop a hint or two if it was really needed. But so far, the team had done an excellent job. God was very proud of all of His children, both Angel and human. Castiel was showing himself to be a great leader. And even though it had taken the slaughter of thousands upon thousands of human beings to bring it out in her, His Daughter Gail had finally come into her own. No longer was she a fragile little flower who needed a man to defend her. She was learning how best to use the powers that her Father had bestowed upon her, and she would only improve from now on. It was unfortunate that such a harsh test had been required, but God had never shied away from those before. Sodom and Gomorrah, the Holocaust, the Flood. Even though God hadn't initiated the latter, He'd still had no hesitation in using it for His purposes. Every now and then, a cull was required; a purge of humanity. The problem with humans was, when things were going well, they often forgot to be thankful for that fact. Then you ended up with a corrupt society. A bunch of narcissists with an inexplicable sense of entitlement, who tended to forget to Whom they owed their existence in the first place. The Aldens had been correct; God didn't require attendance at church as proof of devotion. Having said that, it would be nice if His children would check in once in a while. Not that He could hold it against any of the human members of the so-called God Squad, of course. They were much too busy to attend services. But He had been hearing from them all at regular intervals, via their prayers. He had been pleased to note that everyone kept up their devotions, even the ones who had the most reason to be bitter. Rob prayed twice a day to their Father to bless everyone and keep them safe, but no one else knew about that. The boy was having his problems, and there would be more to come, but God knew he would come through them all right. These little tests of character that the Almighty asked His children to go through from time to time were pretty insignificant, in the scheme of things. At least, they were from His point of view. Then again, He wasn't the one who had to undergo them.

New York. As the songs went, it was a hell of a town. If you could make it there, you could make it anywhere. God Himself had a bit of a love-hate relationship with the place. On the one hand, there was the financial district, where some of the fattest-cat moneychangers did their wheeling and dealing. Many of those men and women ended up in Crowley's domain, succumbing to Greed and other iniquities. On the other hand, living in New York was very expensive, and as long as the individuals there lived life with morals and ethics, God wasn't too particular what that person did for a living, as long as what they did wasn't of evil intent. Mary Magdalene's vocation had made some of the people want to stone her to death back in the day, but God had been perfectly OK with it. Mary had stepped up to the plate when it had counted, just as God was sure the current generation of His children would, as well. But nobody said it was going to be easy.

"This is new to all of us, but I don't see that we have a choice," Cas said to the assembled group. "I know we're flying blind, but I also know that since we're so close to our goal, none of us would be able to stand just sitting around, trying to come up with an idea. That's why we're here in New York now. I think we should split up and go to various points throughout the city. I'm not even sure what we're looking for. We'll just have to have faith that it will be revealed to us."

Gail spoke up: "Well, I know where we should go first, but I want us all to go as a group. I think we should all go and pay our respects at the reflecting pool at the 9/11 Memorial."

"I think that's an excellent idea," Cas said, taking her hand. "We can spend a few minutes there in quiet prayer, and then decide where we're all going to go."

They found a spot where there were no humans watching them, and the Angels winked their human friends over to the site. They reappeared in a blind spot around the corner from the fountain. As they walked towards the reflecting pool, each of them was silent, lost in thought.

"My great-uncle died in one of those buildings," Kevin said softly.

Cas put an arm around the young Angel's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Kevin," he said. "I had no idea."

"My Mom didn't talk about it much, but I know she was really upset about it," Kevin said.

"That's understandable," Sam remarked somberly. "There isn't one person who doesn't remember vividly where they were and what they were doing when those towers fell."

Gail nodded. She and Frank had been in a motel room in Ogden, Utah. Her brother had gone out to get them some breakfast, and Gail had been waiting for him in their room. She had flipped on the TV in the meantime to keep herself company, and the coverage had been on every station. She had been shocked, and then she had started to cry, and by the time Frank had gotten back, she had been screaming. She looked at her brother now. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Yeah, that had been a terrible day. It had taken him hours to get his sister calmed down, and they'd both had nightmares for at least a couple of weeks afterwards.

Dean looked at Sam. He actually didn't remember exactly where they'd been when they'd heard the news, but he remembered watching the coverage in astonishment, and then drinking hard liquor in the morning. As if doing so would erase the event. That was the date that lived in infamy for his generation.

Bobby was pretty sure he'd been hung over that morning. That would have been a normal state of affairs for him back then, just as it was getting to be again now. He drank a little less at the bunker, but he was still drinking far more than he should be at his age, and he knew it. But back then, he'd been younger, and his tolerance had been higher. He seemed to recall having a big head that morning, though. Had Rowena been over, the night before? Maybe. But in any event, he remembered turning on the radio in the kitchen, moving to put the coffee on, and standing at the sink running the water for God only knew how long as the shock hit him. That was the day he'd known without a shadow of a doubt that Evil was real, and that God had left the building.

As they all stood there quietly, Cas said, "This place represents many things. To me, it represents the ultimate perversion of religious ideals. Our Father does not care what religion people choose to be, or how they choose to worship. But when people take that and use it as an excuse to murder their fellow man..." He bit off the words. His throat was closing up, choking him with the white-hot emotion of rage. Cas took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. "I think that this, more than any other reason, was the direct cause of God's retirement. Contrary to what all too many humans seem to believe, God does not cause things like this to happen, nor would He ever condone them. He grieves for each and every person who was lost here, including the monsters that perpetrated the acts, because their lives were also lost, as they were victims of their twisted beliefs. What an unnecessary waste it all was. Just like this last year, with the death squads. When will they ever learn?" A single tear squeezed out of his eye and dribbled down his cheek, and Gail took his hand. He looked at her gratefully.

"But there is also a lot of Good represented here," Castiel continued. "Just as there was Evil, in the form of the people who hijacked those planes to begin with, there was also Good, in the form of those who gave their own lives here, trying to save others. That's the purest form of Good there is."

Then they all joined hands, saying a quiet prayer. Some prayed that the individuals who had died here would rest in peace, while others prayed for the strength to follow in the first responders' footsteps, if they were ever called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice.

After a few more minutes, Sam lifted his head. "I'd like to go to the art museum."

"I was gonna say the same thing!" Kevin exclaimed. "I know my Mom went there when we were all sent out from the bunker before. She was always bugging me when I was younger to go with her to art galleries to look at paintings, but I didn't want to. But now, I think I'd like to go. It would make me feel closer to her."

"Do you mind if I come with?" Sam asked the young Angel, and Kevin smiled. "Not at all, Sam," he replied.

"It seems kind of self-serving, but since we have no idea where inspiration might strike, I'd really love to go to Yankee Stadium," Gail said hesitantly. "I kind of sort of might have looked, and my Blue Jays are playing a pre-season game there this afternoon."

"I'd get in on that," Dean said, grinning. "You can cheer for your pathetic little Canadian bird team, and I'll root for the mighty Yankees. I'll even make you a side bet."

"I'd like to go, too," Bobby chimed in. "I haven't seen a live ballgame in years."

"Did Babe hit a home run that day?" Frank quipped. "Or was he still a pitcher?"

Bobby scowled. "Just for that, the first round is on you."

Frank nodded. "Fair enough. When my wife wins the year-end pool, you can return the favour."

"Oh, that's right. You took the Yankees to win it all, didn't you?" Gail said to Jody. "OK, you can sit at the other end, then."

Jody grinned. "That's all right. We can start speaking to each other again after the game is over."

Cas was frowning. He wasn't so sure about this whole thing. As much as attending a baseball game with Gail and some of his other loved ones appealed to him, he wasn't sure if they should be spending time on such a frivolous pursuit. But really, did he have any idea where the blade might be, or even where to look for it? No. So ultimately, he didn't object.

"The ballgame should take about three hours," Gail said to Kevin and Sam. "We'll meet you back here after it's over. Okay?"

Kevin looked to Cas automatically, and then he cursed himself. He didn't mean to disrespect Gail, but Cas was Kevin's go-to authority figure. Gail had noticed, and she didn't necessarily have a problem with it. In any event, she certainly wasn't going to quibble about it right now. Womens' rights were one thing, but Cas had the most seniority here, in every sense of the word. If it came right down to it, he was the boss in all these kinds of matters. Not that she would ever admit that to him, of course.

Kevin and Sam walked around the corner to the spot where their group had materialized, and the Angel took the younger Winchesters' hand, winking them to the art museum.

Both men looked up at the structure as they mounted the steps. "Wow," Kevin said. "I haven't even seen any art, and I'm impressed already."

"It's an imposing edifice, that's for sure," Sam agreed, nodding.

"Do you want to say that in English, Professor?" Kevin wisecracked, and Sam laughed. "When did Dean get here?" he said to the young Angel.

Kevin stopped walking when they got to the front doors. "Seriously, Sam, it'll be nice to go to a place like this with a fellow intellectual," he remarked.

"I agree," Sam replied. "I'm proud of my vocabulary, and I don't see why I should have to dumb it down, sometimes. Not to mention the fact that if I talk about certain feelings some art invokes in me, or what I believe the artist was trying to say when he or she made the piece, I wouldn't want Dean walking behind me, blowing raspberries the whole time."

Kevin smiled faintly. "I'm sorry to say I would have been like that when I was younger. But now I think I might be mature enough to appreciate what I see here. I'd like to at least give it a try, for my Mom's sake."

Sam clapped a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "I'm sorry about your mom, Kevin. I don't know if I ever told you that. She's a great lady. I really liked her."

"Thanks, Sam. I appreciate that," the young Angel said. "And, while we're talking, I just want to tell you something, too. For the longest time, you know that I was kind of freaked out being around you, because Gadreel was in your body when he killed me. But I'm finally over it, Sam. And I know you can't help how Becky feels about you, either. Frank's always talking about the elephant. Well, those things have been a huge elephant between you and me, and I'm glad we came here together, so we could finally talk about them."

"You know that I never encouraged Becky, right?" Sam said, a little uncomfortably.

Kevin nodded. "Yeah, I know. It's OK, Sam. She wasn't right for me, anyway. I guess on some level I always knew that. It just took me a while to admit it to myself." He stuck out his hand for a shake. "So, no hard feelings."

Sam shook Kevin's hand. He was very happy they'd had this little talk. As the two scholars in their group, the two of them were most likely destined to spend a lot of time together deciphering the writings on the Tablets, and it was a relief to know that Kevin wasn't uncomfortable around him anymore.

"Now, let's go see that art," Kevin said. "I promise I won't make any raspberry noises, and maybe you can share some of your insights with me when it comes to some of the modern art pieces. I'm not sure I ever 'got' modern art."

"Sounds good," Sam said, and they entered the museum together.

Linda sat in her living room with a big box of tissues beside her. Earlier today, she had entered the room carrying a cup of tea. She'd sat on the couch, looking out the window. It was pouring rain at the moment. The Netherworld was a strange place. Sometimes when she stepped outside, there was a lack of atmosphere, almost as if the realm was hermetically sealed. But other times there were rainstorms, such as today, or warm, sunny days. It was curious, really. Today she'd intended to sit out back and work on her portrait a little more. She had a canvas started with the outline of a man, but little else. She'd begun the painting the day that Cas had left here, but even though she'd looked at it every day with her paintbrush at the ready, she hadn't been able to fill in the man's features yet. Why was she so obsessed with this man? Who was he?

But the current weather wouldn't allow for her original plan, so Linda had come here to the living room instead. Maybe she would just sit here quietly, having her tea, and wait to see if the storm cleared up. Sometimes the weather conditions changed very quickly here.

Suddenly, her TV had switched on, all by itself. When Linda had first gotten to the cottage, she had been extremely bemused to see that there was a TV here. She doubted the Netherworld had very good reception. Just for the heck of it, she'd turned it on, but all there had been on the screen was snow. There wasn't even a remote for it, not anywhere that she could see, anyway. So she'd turned it off again. Whoever had designed these houses obviously knew that a television set was a permanent fixture in most homes, so its function here was obviously to serve as part of the decor only.

Or so she'd thought. But this morning, the screen was showing her a very clear picture. Linda could see them all together at the 9/11 Memorial in New York City. She heard all of their stories and watched as they all linked hands and bowed their heads. That was when she had first opened the box of tissues.

Then, as if it were a movie she was watching, the scene changed, and Linda watched her son and Sam talking outside the art museum. She had to reach for more tissues as she witnessed how mature Kevin was now. It warmed her heart to hear him talk about her and her love for art, and she was overjoyed to see Kevin and Sam achieve closure on the issues that had been adversely affecting their friendship.

She was able to watch them walking through the museum looking at the various pieces of art, and Linda had to grab more tissues because it was like she was walking around with them, seeing the art through her son's eyes for the first time. Whoever had flipped the switch on her TV screen this morning had been very generous, indeed.

After an indeterminate period of time, Sam asked Kevin if he'd like to take a break. Sam was hungry, and he thought they might want to get off their feet for a few minutes. He joked about buying Kevin a beer, and Kevin laughed and said he just might take Sam up on that. Then her son had said that he was beginning to understand his mom's love of art, and Sam had smiled and said that the two of them would have to be "art buddies" from now on.

Then the TV screen faded to black once more, and the rain suddenly stopped outside. Linda's tea was cold, and the box of tissues was almost empty. She said a silent Thank You to their Father, then went to get her canvas.

Bobby had wanted to stop by Central Park first, to pay his respects at another important memorial.

The group looked down at the concentric tiles. There were bouquets of flowers and homemade signs on the ground all around the plaque. No matter how many times the city workers cleared the stuff, it just kept on coming and coming. They kept some of the more touching and heartfelt notes for the widow, and they gave the flowers to local hospitals and old folks' homes. But still, the tributes kept coming, decades after the event. Only one life had been taken here, but in many ways, Strawberry Fields was just as significant as the 9/11 Memorial. Both events represented the loss of innocence, and both sites evoked deep emotions in those who visited them.

"It wasn't just the music, it was the ideal it represented," Bobby was saying to the others. "The '60s was an era of freedom. Make love, not war. 'I Want To Hold Your Hand'. Flower power. It was all about love, and peace. Kids grew their hair long and wore beads. They danced to psychedelic music and took mind-expanding drugs, looking for new ways to transcend the earthly bonds of society, and find God."

Dean and Frank exchanged glances, bemused. They could suddenly picture Bobby at Woodstock, with long hair and bell-bottoms, dancing around.

"I didn't agree with all of his politics, but you can't argue with 'Give Peace A Chance' and 'War Is Over', can ya?" Bobby went on.

"I was a little taken aback when I heard 'Imagine there's no Heaven'," Cas said with a faint smile, "but when you listen to the full lyrics of the song, it becomes apparent what he intended to say. It's actually very deep, and profound. If there was no division between rich and poor, no political boundaries, or opposing religious factions, the world would be a much better place. I can see why people mourn this man's death."

"I remember where I was on the day we heard he got shot, too," Bobby said somberly. "In its own way, John Lennon's assassination was just as game-changing as 9/11. The Beatles made the music of an entire generation, and it represented an innocence that no longer exists. People can argue Buddy Holly all they want, but this was the true day the music died."

"'War is over, if you want it'," Jody spoke up quietly.

They spent a couple more minutes in quiet reflection, and then they moved to a remote, wooded area of Central Park, where Cas and Gail winked them all away.

"It seems that I'm always rooting for the visiting team," Cas said good-naturedly as they all took their seats. "Maybe I should be cheering for the home team for a change."

"Fine," Gail said, eyebrows raised. She pointed. "Then you can go sit over there, on the other side of Jody."

"That won't be happening," he said with a smile. He took her hand. "I have to admit, I'm very excited to finally be at a baseball game with you."

She smiled. "Me too, sweetie."

"How about us?" Frank piped up. "Are you excited to be at a ballgame with us?"

Cas shrugged. "Sure, Frank. Let's go with that."

Gail laughed merrily, and Frank rolled his eyes. "I liked it better when you didn't know how to make jokes," he said to Cas.

"What have you got against the Yankees?" Dean asked Gail.

She made a face. "What DON'T I have against them? They're the evil empire, Dean. Everybody hates the Yankees, or they should, anyway. If Crowley were to manage a team, it would be the Yankees. I'm rooting for the Blue Jays because they're NOT the Yankees. And because they wear blue, and because they're Canadian."

Dean looked at her. "Shouldn't you be rooting for an American team?"

"We already had that discussion," she said implacably. "Hey, you can root for Crowley's team if you want to, but we Angels will be rooting for the good guys."

"I remember rooting for the actual Angels, in Seattle," Cas remarked. "That was an enjoyable experience, but it wasn't nearly as enjoyable as this is."

They watched a couple of innings, and then Frank got up and left. He and Jody had had a beer, so the others assumed that Frank was just answering a call of nature. The Jays had come out in the first couple of innings with their bats blazing, and they had a 5-0 lead. Gail had been cheering loudly for her team in-between answering Cas's questions about rules and strategies. A few of the people around them had been looking at her curiously, but as it was a pre-season game, they hadn't raised much of an objection.

After a bit of a prolonged absence, Frank came back. He had a Blue Jays' baseball cap in one hand and an Angels' cap in the other, and he jammed them on Gail and Cas's heads, then continued on to his seat. The Angels looked at him, and he shrugged. "Never say I never gave you anything."

"Yeah, 'cause that makes up for a car that cost thousands and thousands of dollars," Dean wisecracked.

Frank glared at him. "Shut up, Winchester, or I'll buy you a Yankees cap and watch my sister kick your ass."

Cas was looking at Gail. "You look very cute in your baseball cap," he said to her.

She smiled. "So do you," she told him.

"Oh, way to go, Frank," Dean groused. "Now we'll have to listen to an hour's discussion on who looks cuter."

"No, you won't, because I've decided I want a hot dog," Gail announced, "and a beer, too."

Cas jumped up from his seat. "I'll be right back," he said, and he headed up the stairs immediately.

"Ya know, we could have told him that they bring those right to the seats," Bobby said with amusement.

"Yeah, we could have," Dean agreed, smirking.

Cas returned with the refreshments, and Gail took a big bite of her hot dog. Wow. Cas hadn't been sure what she'd wanted on her hot dog, so it had all of the condiments, and the flavours were so strong it was almost too much. Then she took a swig of beer.

"I thought you didn't like beer," Dean said to her.

"I don't, but it's a ballpark tradition," she replied.

"Damn right," Frank said. He extended his arm past Bobby and Dean, and touched his cup of beer to hers.

"Did you guys ever go to a ballgame together?" Jody asked Frank and Gail.

"No, we could never afford it," her husband told her. "But every once in a while, I would get us a big bottle of root beer and a couple of convenience-store hot dogs, and we would watch whatever game I could find on TV at the motel and pretend."

"Convenience store hot dogs? I'm surprised you're still alive," Dean said, smirking.

Gail coughed. "Ahem."

"You know what I mean," Dean grumbled good-naturedly. He looked at her face. "Obviously, Frank didn't teach you any manners. You have a beer moustache, and mustard on your face."

"Does she?" Frank grinned. "I've never been prouder."

"Let me see," Cas said, gently turning her face towards him. She did indeed have a foamy moustache, and she also had mustard on her face, but it was high up on her cheek. How had she managed to get it way up there? He took a napkin and gently wiped the mustard away. God, she was cute. Cas felt like his heart was going to explode out of love for her.

Frank took Jody's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I wish we could have brought Rob here with us," he said to his wife. "Maybe he and I would get along better if we could bond over baseball."

Jody frowned, though she knew what he meant. Rob had thawed towards his dad when they'd all been in the training room together, but when they'd told him that they were going to New York with Cas, Rob had gotten all pouty again. Not that they could blame him, really, but it was a real shame. This was the kind of thing that they should be doing together, as a family. But she just had to keep reminding herself that that was why she and Frank were doing what they had been doing, so that they could get the spectre of Lucifer out of their lives forever. Then they could get down to the business of living their lives. Then they could be a real family again.

Jody rose. "I have to go to the bathroom," she told her husband. That beer had gone right through her. She walked up the stairs to the concourse and found the ladies' room. Suddenly, she was feeling lightheaded. From one beer? Not too likely. She stood at the sink and washed her face, and then she urinated for what felt like about five minutes. Then she washed her hands and her face again. The dizziness had passed now, but that had been a weird feeling there, for a minute.

While Jody was washing up, Cas was cleaning mustard and ketchup from Gail's face, after she had taken another bite of her hot dog. "It's funny," he said. "I fantasized about this, when I was at the baseball game in Seattle."

Dean was smirking. "THAT'S what you fantasize about when you're separated from your girlfriend?"

"Wife," Cas corrected him automatically.

"Actually, he's right, we weren't married at the time," Gail commented.

"Doesn't matter; it's still lame," Dean proclaimed.

Gail smiled at her husband. "I don't think it's lame at all," she told him. "I think it's very sweet."

Cas smiled back at her. She had another foam moustache now. He made to wipe it away with the napkin, then thought better of it and leaned forward, kissing it from her face, instead.

"Hey, do you guys mind?" Frank said, rolling his eyes. "I'm trying to keep my hot dog down."

"You disappoint me, Frank," Dean said to Gail's brother. "A guy your size, having a little baby hot dog like that? I thought for sure you'd be having the giant hot dog they advertise here. I think I need to have one of those."

"So what you're telling me is: you need a giant wiener?" Frank wisecracked. "Sounds like a classic case of overcompensation, if you ask me."

Gail had just taken another swig of her beer, and her eyes and cheeks bulged wide as she tried not to spit it out. She just barely managed to swallow it, and then she burst out laughing.

Dean looked at her, then at Cas. "Can I borrow your blade for a minute?" Dean joked. "I'll only poke her a little, I promise."

"That's not what he said to Nicole!" Gail said. Now she was crying with laughter. Then Frank started laughing, too.

"Control your wife," Dean said to Cas, shaking his head, to which Cas replied, "You must be new here." That made Gail and Frank laugh some more, and now Bobby was smiling, too. Jody came back to her seat. "What'd I miss?" she said curiously.

Gail's laughter ebbed into giggles, and she grabbed a napkin from Cas's hand and wiped her eyes with it. She snorted, then giggled again, and then she took a deep breath. "I'll go get you your giant you-know-what," she said to Dean. "I need to collect myself, anyway. I don't even know what the score is, any more. I blame Frank. He's a bad influence."

"Hey!" her brother said, but he was still smiling.

"Can I have some money?" Gail asked Dean sweetly. "You know I don't carry a purse."

"Here, my love," Cas said. He pressed some money into her hand. She took it, then walked over to the barbecue area. Wow, did everything ever smell good. Sometimes she really did miss eating. The hot dog and beer she'd just had had been more about tradition than actual pleasure. She ordered Dean's hot dog, and a few minutes later, the server presented her with a long box in which it rested. Her mouth fell open. It was easily two feet long, if not bigger. She wouldn't even be able to carry it with one hand.

Then it occurred to her that she hadn't asked Dean what he wanted on it. Oh, well. Knowing him, he would want everything. So she took the box to the condiment table and loaded it down. Then she carried it back to their seats, using two hands. Now she was giggling again, because this was the biggest hot dog she had ever seen. It was the biggest anything she had ever seen. There was no way Dean was going to be able to eat all this by himself.

She got back to their seats with it, and as soon as they saw her with the box, they were all laughing, too. She presented Dean with the box, and he grinned.

"No way you're eating all that," Frank said to Dean.

"Oh, yeah?" his friend said. "Watch me." He dug in, and soon he had condiments all over his face, and a blissful smile. "Way to go, Gail," Dean said, around a mouthful of food. "You really know how to load up a hot dog."

"Well, I didn't know what you liked, so I got you everything," she told him.

Now Dean not only had condiments all over his face, but he had chili on his hands, and sauerkraut hanging from his mouth.

"Good God," Jody said disgustedly.

"Wha-?" Dean asked her.

"You've got a little something on your face," Frank told him, grinning widely.

"Where?" Dean said, gesturing to his own face.

"Everywhere," Jody replied, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Will somebody please give him some napkins before I throw up?"

Gail had stashed some napkins in her pocket at the barbecue stand, and she handed them to Dean now. "Hey Jody, is your team still losing?" she teased her sister-in-law.

"Who the hell even knows anymore?" Bobby said grumpily. "I'm trying to follow the game, but all these shenanigans are making it hard."

"Yeah, Cas," Frank said, taking a sip of his beer. "Stop being so rowdy."

Cas smiled. "The Yankees have runners at second and third, Bobby," he said.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "I can see that, Cas. I've got eyes, ya know. How many men are out? What's the count?"

Frank poked him. "Ummm, see that big scoreboard over there?"

"Never mind, Frank. When Bobby saw a game last, they probably didn't have scoreboards. They probably had to rely on the town crier for updates," Dean wisecracked.

"I'm gonna kick you smartasses right in the keister," Bobby shot back. He looked at Dean. "Shut up and eat your giant wiener."

"They've halted play," Cas told Bobby. "It looks like the Blue Jays are going to go to the bullpen for a relief pitcher. It'll probably be the left-hander, because the on-deck batter is swinging from the left side."

"That's right, sweetie," Gail said with a smile. She put her hand on his arm. "I'm impressed."

He was pleased. "I've always been a quick study," Cas told her. "Well, when it's been a subject I cared about, anyway."

The Blue Jays' pitcher came in and got the Yankees' batter out, ending the inning. Gail cheered loudly, and then she looked at Jody. "One more inning, and then your team is toast," she teased her sister-in-law.

Jody shrugged. "Hey, it's only a pre-season game," she remarked. "We'll talk again, around the All-Star break."

"All-Star break?" Cas asked, puzzled.

Gail smiled. "And the education continues. Don't worry, sweetie. We'll get there," she said to him.

As they watched the last inning, a cloud came over the ballpark, and the late afternoon temperature cooled. Gail shivered, and Cas took off his blazer and put it on her shoulders. Then he put his arms around her, cuddling her until the final out. He looked at their companions. This had been one of the most perfect occasions he could have spent with his family and friends, and he thanked their Father for the respite.

The Blue Jays prevailed, and Cas took that as a hopeful sign. The group rose from their seats in preparation to leave, and then Gail felt Cas's cell phone ring. She was still wearing his blazer around her shoulders, and she went into the pocket and took it out. Sam.

"Hi, Gail," Sam said. "Can you guys meet me and Kevin back at the 9/11 Memorial? We think we've got the answer."

Linda had taken her canvas and paints outside after the rain stopped, and she'd been staring at it. She was thinking now about how much she missed Kevin, and all their friends. It had been wonderful to see them again, but it wasn't the same. She wasn't the only one who was feeling bad, though, she knew. There had been others at the 9/11 Memorial when her group had been there paying her respects, people of all ages who had been solemn and crying, as well. There had even been little children, and in many ways, that had been the saddest thing of all. Those kids would never know the people who were being mourned at the site. Presumably their caregivers were bringing them there to try to establish some kind of connection, however tenuous. But it would never be the same.

Her heart was heavy with sorrow. She looked at the outline of the man on her canvas, and it suddenly occurred to her who she'd been trying to paint. Her brush moved quickly, and a couple of minutes later, she sat back and looked at the face of the firefighter she'd seen at the reflecting pool when she'd been there. Jake, his name had been. Jake Sadler. Ladder 52. Jacob Sadler?! Ladder 52?! That was it!

Linda stood suddenly, dumping her paints onto the grass. She'd better contact Quinn right away.

Quinn had been about to hold a seance for one of her clients. Imelda was an older woman; very wealthy, and very eccentric. She was also highly superstitious. She came to see Quinn whenever the mood struck her, not bothering about things like appointments. If the psychic happened to be with a client already, Imelda would just wait, for however long it took. So Quinn had given up on asking Imelda to call for an appointment. Quinn usually just sat her down in the living room with a cup of tea until she was ready for her.

Today, Imelda was sitting in the living room sipping her tea when a man entered the room. She looked at him, surprised. "Are you waiting, too?" she asked him.

"Waiting?" Oliver said irritably. "No. I live here." He supposed he did live here, now. Obviously, whoever was in charge of these things didn't care if he moved on, or not. Apparently, the voice from the void didn't care, either, because he hadn't heard from it lately.

Imelda's eyebrows raised. Quinn was single, and this was an older man. A father, or an uncle, maybe? "Can I offer you a cup of tea?" she asked the man.

"No," he said bluntly, and Imelda's smile faded. Suddenly, he disappeared, and the books on the living room bookcase came flying off the shelves, making the older woman scream.

Quinn hurried into the room, asking Imelda what was wrong. Imelda told her, and Quinn frowned. Oliver hadn't acted up in quite a while. The next time she saw him, she was going to have to have a serious talk with him. It was hard enough making ends meet without him scaring off her clients.

She brought Imelda into the seance room. Once the preparations had all been made, Quinn called for Imelda's husband Arthur to come forth. But after a couple of minutes of silence, it was not Arthur who appeared but Linda, and she was very agitated.

"You have to call them, Quinn," she said without preliminary. "The blade is at the 9/11 Memorial. Tell them to go back there. Jake will show them."

"Excuse me," Imelda said to Linda. "You need to wait your turn. I was here first."

Linda looked at her incredulously. "I'm talking about saving mankind, you old biddy! YOU'LL have to wait YOUR turn!"

Imelda was outraged. "Are all the spirits here so rude?" she asked Quinn. The psychic threw up her hands in frustration. Great. There went her most lucrative customer. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Imelda, but I really have to take this. You're welcome to wait back in the living room, if you want."

"I don't think so," Imelda said indignantly, picking up her purse. "You're clearly very busy today."

Quinn opened her mouth to apologize again, but Imelda looked at her and said, "Perhaps my girlfriends and I can teach your spirits better manners, when we come back. We've been looking for a medium who's not a fraud. Obviously, we've found one." She gave Quinn a tight smile. "I'll be in touch." Then she left the room.

Quinn smiled with relief. She would much rather deal with Linda and her friends than with weird old ladies like Imelda, but business was business, and she had to pay the bills, too.

She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. "What was that again, Linda?"

So Quinn had called Sam on his cell phone, and Sam had talked to Gail, and the God Squad was back at the 9/11 Memorial now.

"How was the art gallery?" Frank asked Kevin. "Did you say 'show me the Monet'? Should we Van Gogh there?"

They were ignoring him. Everybody knew by now that Frank was like this sometimes when he was agitated, and he wasn't the only one. "What are we supposed to do now?" Dean said, frustrated. "Just wait for this guy to show up?"

Cas gave him a half-shrug. "I suppose so, Dean. Perhaps he is waiting for the museum to close. It's getting darker out now, and once the people have left, he will probably make his appearance." He frowned. "I should have known it would be here. I'm sure our Father put Lucifer's blade here to make a point."

Sam was shaking his head. Jacob Sadler, from Ladder 52. They'd been looking for zebras, all right. Whoever had been trying to send them the information from the cosmos must have had a reception problem that day, he thought with faint amusement. But it made perfect sense to him. If there was ever a place that God would want to use to make a point, it would be this 's Ladder. Here they had been, bringing all kinds of arcane facts and obscure research into it, and it had been this simple. Sam remarked on this now.

Bobby shrugged. "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, boy," he said.

The museum closed, and people came streaming outside. A few of them stopped by the reflecting pool for a moment or two, sniffling back tears. But they dispersed quickly. There was only so much grief a person could take, Sam thought somberly.

A short while later, everyone had left the site except for one man. He was standing with his back to them, looking down at the reflecting pool. Dean moved to stand beside him. The Winchesters had seen a lot of ghosts in their day, and there was a vibe about the guy. Also, Linda had advised that the man she'd spoken to had been a first responder, and he had a firefighter's uniform on.

He was standing with his head down, looking at the plaque with the names of the people who had perished here that day. He was running his hand slowly over a name. Dean looked down. Bonnie Sadler.

"Jake?" Dean said quietly.

The man turned to look at Dean, tears streaming down his face. "I couldn't save her," he said. "I was too late."

"I'm sorry," Dean said to Jake. "I can only imagine how terrible that must have been."

"There's no feeling that's more helpless," Jake said sadly. "She loved me, and I let her down."

"Don't do that to yourself," Dean said uncomfortably. "You did the best you could. There's nothing anybody could have done about something like that."

"She died here, when Tower 2 collapsed," Jake continued. "We were here on site for Tower 1, and when it collapsed, I tried calling her office number, but it just rang and rang. Nobody knew how bad it was gonna get. Nobody."

Gail moved forward and put her hand on his arm. It felt solid underneath her, and for a moment, she was surprised. But then she remembered what Linda had said: the longer a person was deceased, the more solid their body became. Either that, or their Father was just being merciful, allowing her to try to comfort Jake with her touch. "Bonnie loved you very much," she told him softly.

Jake looked at her, open-mouthed. He hadn't said Bonnie's name, and this woman had been standing behind him, so she couldn't have read his wife's name from the plaque.

"Her last thoughts were of you," Gail continued. "She knew you would be called to come here, and she was hoping that you would be safe."

Now Jake was crying again, but Gail's touch and her words had comforted him, as well. He could feel the benevolence coming from her, and when Cas walked up to join them, Jake understood why. "You're the Angels," he said to them. "I've been waiting for you." He looked down at the reflecting pool. "The blade is in the pool, underneath the stone that's just below my wife's name."

Cas nodded. "Thank you, Jake." He began to unbutton his shirt. "I'll go and get it." He handed his shirt to Gail, then bent to remove his shoes. "I'll be back in a moment."

He dove into the pool and they all moved up and watched him swim down to where the stone was that Jake had described. The pool was deceptively deep, but the water was clear. They could all see Cas prying the stone loose with his fingers and lifting it, revealing the shiny knife underneath. He grabbed the blade and put it between his teeth, replacing the block of stone with both of his hands. Then he swam back up to the surface. He hoisted himself up and over the barrier, and landed back on the pavement in front of the pool with a splash.

Gail came to him immediately. She waved her hands, drying off his pants, then handed him back his shirt. Then she took his blazer off of her shoulders and insisted that he put it back on.

Cas was still holding Lucifer's blade as Gail helped him on with his jacket, and the knife felt warm in his hand. He turned to look at his wife, and his eyes flashed. "You and I have awesome powers," he said to her. "We could rule it all."

Gail's eyes narrowed. She looked into his eyes, then at the blade in his hand.

"I've got his blade now," Cas continued. "I'll know what all of his weaknesses are. We could chain him up and make him our slave. He needs to pay for everything he's done."

"And he will, but that's not the way, Cas," she said to her husband.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't sit out there every night this past year, vowing revenge on Lucifer for all the atrocities his death squads committed," Castiel went on. He took her hand with the hand that was holding the blade, and she felt the warmth of the metal permeate her skin. "We can go up to Heaven and take over the High Office," Cas said softly. "We can wreak vengeance on everyone who's ever wronged us. I could give you everything you have ever wanted. Everything you deserve." He leaned down, nuzzling her cheek with his. "Everything." His hand squeezed hers tighter, with the blade between them. Now, she could picture the two of them in Heaven together, co-ruling. But it wasn't acts of kindness they were performing, it was torture, and murder.

Gail pulled her hand out of Cas's. "No," she said sternly. "That's the blade talking, not you. Give it to me, Cas."

His expression darkened. "Why would you say that to me?" He gripped the blade tighter. "If you're not with me, then you're against me."

Her heart was beating faster now. She was sure that Cas would never really hurt her, but she didn't like the sight of him holding that blade. She'd felt its power too, and it had been here for years, just marinating in all of the evil that had happened here. She wanted that thing out of his hand.

"Don't be ridiculous," Gail snapped. She snatched the blade from his hand, collapsed it, and put it in her pants pocket. She could feel it there, warm and heavy against her thigh. They'd better get the stupid thing locked up with the Tablets, and fast.

As soon as she'd removed the blade from Cas's hand, the spell was broken, and his look was contrite. "I'm sorry, my love," he said.

Gail nodded in acknowledgement. Then she looked at Jake. "Thank you for helping us, Jake," she said to him. "You can be very proud today. You've helped to save all of mankind."

Cas took her hand and gave it a gentle kiss. "And when you ascend, you will be reunited with your wife, and you can tell her that," he told Jake. "The two of you will be able to spend eternity together, and you will never know pain or sorrow again."

Gail looked sharply at him. Really? Funny; they were Angels, and she'd never found that to be the case. But hopefully Cas was right, in this instance. Jake and Bonnie had suffered enough, hadn't they?

God was watching this tableau, and He quite agreed with Gail. Jake and Bonnie HAD suffered enough.

"I'll be going, then," Jake said to the group. "Thanks for helping me to move on."

"No, thank YOU, Jake," Sam said. "Thanks for your service."

"Now, get going," Gail said, her eyes prickling with tears. "Bonnie's waited long enough."

Jake smiled wearily, and then he faded away.

The front door to the house opened, and Bonnie dropped the book she'd been reading.

"Bonnie?" Jake called out.

She gasped. "I'm here, Jake!" She ran out of the living room into the front hallway. Her husband's face lit up when he saw her. For so many years, he had been picturing her there at the Tower, trapped by the flames, screaming for him to come and save her. He'd been tormented by the thought of her suffering, and her terror when she realized that escape was impossible. But she looked like herself now. Her skin was pink and healthy-looking, not burned and scarred, and she was smiling.

Bonnie flung herself into Jake's arms and he held her tight, drinking in the feel of her, and the smell of her hair. It smelled like apples. He'd always teased her about having hair that smelled like fruit, but when she'd switched shampoos, he'd asked her to switch back, because when he'd smelled the apples in her hair, she'd smelled like home.

"I'm sorry, Baby," he said to his wife in a husky voice. "I'm so sorry. I tried to get to you, but I couldn't get there in time."

Bonnie pulled out of the embrace. "Don't cry, Jake," she said to her husband, wiping the tears from his cheeks with her hands. "Please, don't. There was nothing you could have done. You were there being the man I fell in love with, trying to help people. You did the best you could, honey. But now, you've helped to save all of mankind, and now we're together again, forever. I'd call that a pretty good day, wouldn't you?"

Jake smiled down at his wife. Whenever he'd had a tough night at work, if they had tried but failed to save someone from a burning building, she had always had a sympathetic ear when he'd come home. And she had always made him feel better at the end of their conversation.

"I love you, honey," Bonnie told him, her eyes shining with happy tears.

God was getting a little misty-eyed, Himself. Strictly speaking, since there was no one in the High Office at the moment, Jake should have gone to the Garden to await the disposition of his soul. But God didn't think the Sadlers should wait one for minute for their reunion, so He had fast-tracked Jake to Heaven.

There was only one more hurdle for Castiel's group to jump over in their quest to lock up Lucifer, but it was going to be a huge one. A game-changer. But Castiel had the con, and his Father had intervened enough for one day. Still, it would be interesting to see how His children would handle the ultimate test.

Metatron was staring at his computer screen, open-mouthed. Oh, they had to be kidding with this. So, they were supposed to set up the Tablets in a star-shaped pattern. Made sense; there were five of them. Then Lucifer's blade was to be used to make a sacrifice, in the middle. Very Old Testament-y. So far, so good. But it was the very specific nature of the sacrifice that was in question. The phraseology was very complex, and one of the words was so arcane that he just sat there, puzzling over it. He'd better make sure. Castiel was going to lose his mind if what Metatron was reading turned out to be correct.

But first, he had to be sure. And in order to be sure, they would have to talk to the only other entity that Metatron knew of who was more well-versed in the ancient language than himself.

He sent out the call on their Originals' frequency.


	6. Hero Blues

Chapter 6 - Hero Blues

Castiel's group had been just about to leave New York when he put a hand to his head. "I'm getting a message from Metatron," he told them. He moved away, listening intently.

Metatron explained that he needed help translating the passage, and Castiel's heart sank. He knew what that meant. Well, it wasn't as though they were going to be able to avoid talking to Crowley, anyway. Now that they had Lucifer's blade, they needed to find out once and for all if the King of Hell could be relied upon to help them take the Devil down.

"Go to the crossroads with your laptop," Cas instructed Metatron. "Gail and I will meet you there in a couple of minutes." He disconnected, then turned to the others and told them about the development. "Gail and I will help Kevin take you all back to the bunker, and then we'll go to the crossroads for our meeting."

"I don't need help, Cas. I've got this," Kevin said confidently. "You two go ahead."

Cas looked at Kevin for a moment, and then he nodded. Linda would be proud of her son if she could see him now. "We'll see you all back at the bunker, then," he said.

"Wait," Gail said. She looked up at Cas. "Do you think we should get them to lock up Lucifer's blade?" She could still feel it in her pocket, and it was making her feel uneasy, almost as if it were a snake, coiled up and ready to strike. Which was a pretty apt analogy, when you thought about it.

Cas thought about that for a moment. "Actually, that's probably a good idea," he said. "Considering the way it affected me, it's probably best not to bring it around those two."

"Here, I'll take it," Dean said, moving forward. He took his jacket off. "No sense taking any chances," he added.

Gail dug into her pocket and pulled out the blade, transferring it to Dean, who wrapped it up in his jacket. "There," he said. "I'm not even gonna touch the damn thing. I'll just throw it in the safe like this. I've got other jackets."

She smiled and stretched up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "See you later, you giant wiener," she wisecracked. "Hey!" he objected, and Gail shrugged. "Sorry, but you know what they say: you are what you eat."

She sashayed over to Cas and took his hand, and the Angels winked away before Dean had the chance to make his retort.

Gail was still smiling mischievously when they got to the crossroads. Metatron was already there, but his expression was grim.

"Where's Crowley?" Cas demanded.

"I haven't called him yet," Metatron replied. "In case you've forgotten, I'm not exactly one of his favourite people. I have no desire to be alone with him."

"Fair enough," Cas said, nodding. He called Crowley, and a moment later, the King of Hell appeared. His eyebrows lifted in surprise when he saw Metatron. "To what do I owe the non-pleasure?" Crowley said, smirking. "Is it go time?" he asked Castiel.

"Not yet, but very soon," Cas told him. "Metatron has been researching the passages that instruct us how to re-cage Lucifer, and he advises that he needs your help with the translation."

"Really? You need my help, do you, Scribe?" Crowley said, amused.

Metatron tried to overlook the King's tone. "Yes, I'm stuck on the phraseology for the sacrifice." He opened the laptop to show Crowley.

Sacrifice? Gail looked at Cas, alarmed. She didn't like the sound of that.

Crowley was peering at the computer screen. "That's talking about the Horsemen, right?" Metatron said, pointing.

Crowley nodded. "Yes, that's right. 'Tablets to be formed as the points to a star/Solely to be touched by Castiel and Gail/On hallowed ground in Madagascar/Where the - " He cut off, squinting closer. "The..."

Metatron smiled smugly. "There. That's the word I had trouble with, too. It's either a diminutive, or it's a very arcane term."

Crowley rolled his eyes. Metatron may have claimed to have turned over a new leaf, but he still thought he was the smartest guy in the universe.

"It's some kind of old-fashioned terminology," Metatron mused aloud. "It's not commonly used in everyday conversation."

Crowley was thinking furiously. There was no way Metatron was going to translate the stupid word before him, not even if they had to be here all night. Not even if he had to whack the Scribe upside the head with his own laptop.

As they were puzzling over the word, Gail was frozen in shock. Her name was ascribed along Castiel's on the Hell Tablet? Her name? Those were ancient stone Tablets, dating back to Biblical times, as far as she was aware. How was that even possible? How much of this stuff had been preordained, and how far back did it go?

"Ebon," Crowley said triumphantly. "The word is 'ebon'."

"Ebon?" Metatron echoed skeptically. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Crowley said irritably.

"When's the last time you ever used the word 'ebon' in conversation?" Metatron whined.

"Nevertheless, that's what it is," Crowley insisted. He resumed reading: "'Where the ebon Horseman/in the circle/must kill the Horseman pale.'" He looked up at the others. "There. But there's another verse: 'The blood is on the Devil's blade/The church will toll the bell/The Tablets fall upon the glade/Constructing Satan's cell/The Horseman dies/The Angels cry/For the King of Hell to revive/But Lucifer will e'er walk the Earth/So long as Dean remains alive.'"

Gail's mouth dropped open. Then she made a face. "Oh, very funny," she said to Crowley.

But he was not laughing, nor was Metatron. "That's what it says," insisted the Scribe. "I was tripped up on the one word, but I had the rest. I knew you weren't going to believe me, so I figured you'd need to hear it from a second party."

Castiel was staring at Metatron and Crowley. He was highly suspicious. How did he know the two of them weren't in league together? They both had old bones to pick with the Winchesters. They'd had issues with Sam and Dean for years.

"Give me that," Cas snapped. He grabbed the laptop from Metatron and stared at the screen. It was slower going for him, but eventually, he looked up, frowning. "That's what it says," Cas said, dazed.

"Oh, come on!" Gail exclaimed. "That's all a little bit too convenient, isn't it?"

"That's what I thought, too," Cas told her. "But that's what it says."

"We're not killing Dean!" she shouted. "You guys are nuts! You can forget about it!"

Crowley shrugged. "Suit yourself, sweetheart. I guess you've grown accustomed to Lucifer's company by now. You were a guest of his recently, I understand. Is there anything going on between the two of you that Castiel should know about?"

"You're not funny," she said, rolling her eyes. "So, what are you guys saying? Are you saying it's either Lucifer, or Dean?"

"That's what it says," Metatron replied. "You have to take all five Tablets and arrange them on hallowed ground in a star pattern in Madagascar, and the ebon Horseman, which is the black Horseman - "

"I know that," she said angrily.

" - has to kill the pale Horseman," Metatron continued, unruffled.

"Sam," Crowley chipped in. "The black Horseman is Sam. Remember your Revelation?" He looked at Cas with a thin smile on his face. "It seems we've come full circle, Brother. The eldest kills the youngest at the Beginning, and the youngest returns the favour, at the End."

"Do you find this amusing?" Castiel said in his quiet voice.

"Let's just say...it's ironic," Crowley replied. "And, highly Biblical. I don't know what Moose and Squirrel did to piss our Father off, but it must have been pretty serious."

Gail let out a frustrated breath. "OK, well, assuming you're telling the truth, couldn't you just revive Dean, after we get Lucifer back in the cage?"

"You weren't listening, sweetheart," the King told her matter-of-factly. He gestured to Cas for the laptop. When Cas handed it over, Crowley said, "And, I quote: 'The Horseman dies/The Angels cry/For the King of Hell to revive/But Lucifer will e'er walk the Earth/So long as Dean remains alive'. It's all laid out here. If we try to circumvent the instructions, the mission will fail, and all of your hard work will be for naught."

"Why should we believe either of you?!" Gail exclaimed. "You're both liars, and murderers!"

Metatron frowned, but Crowley made her a small bow. "I can't argue with the veracity of your statement," the King acknowledged. "You'd be foolish to take our word for it. But your own husband has acknowledged the translation."

"How can we allow this, Cas?" Gail said to her husband. "We can't! There's got to be another way!"

Cas's lips were pursed so tightly they were white. "We need to talk to Sam and Dean," he said.

"Bring them here, then," Crowley said offhandedly. "We can wait."

"No," Cas said tersely. "WE need to talk to Sam and Dean." He took Gail's hand. "We'll be in touch." He winked them both away, without another word.

Metatron smiled at Crowley nervously. "So, how's tricks? Are you going to see my movie when it comes out? I can leave a ticket for you at the Box Office, if you want."

Crowley glared at him. "The only reason, and I repeat, the ONLY reason, you're still alive right now is because we need you to help us get rid of Lucifer. But, make no mistake: once he is dealt with, all bets are off."

"Fine, but you'll have to buy your own popcorn, then," Metatron quipped. "See you around, Your Majesty." He winked himself back to Egypt as Crowley stood there, the retort hanging on his lips.

"So, how are the two other most hated guys in the universe?" Frank asked Cas and Gail when they popped into the bunker. Their sudden appearance had made him jump a little, but he was slowly but surely getting more used to it. Or so he told himself, anyway.

"Where are Sam and Dean?" Cas asked him tersely.

"Right behind me," Frank said affably. "We all went to the kitchen to get a beer."

"Hey, Cas," Dean said, entering the library. "Did you guys figure it out?"

Gail's heart sank to her stomach. How the hell were they going to pull this off? Dean was a human. It wasn't like when they'd "killed" Cas and sent him to the Netherworld. Dean had no essence. Once he was killed, he would stay dead, unless he was revived by otherworldly means. But the only entity who had the power of revival was Crowley, and the instructions specifically stated that the King wasn't allowed to revive Dean. And the stupid Tablet said that Lucifer would continue to walk the Earth as long as Dean remained alive.

Sam came out of the hallway next and stood beside his brother, looking at them expectantly. He would be able to figure something out, Gail thought. He was the smartest guy she had ever met, and he'd been doing this kind of thing for years and years, hadn't he? Both he and Dean had come back from the dead before. Sam would be able to find them a loophole, she was sure.

"We need to talk to you and Sam," Cas said to Dean.

"OK, well, go ahead," Dean said, smirking. "We're right here."

"No. We need to talk to you alone. Just the two of you," Cas said bluntly.

"Well, all right, then. I know when I'm not wanted. You don't have to tell me twice. I guess I'm chopped liver, or something," Frank babbled.

"Would you just - " Cas said irritably, and then he made himself take a deep breath. None of this was Frank's fault. "Frank, can you please leave us alone for a bit?" Cas said to Gail's brother, as patiently as he could. "Who else is here?"

"Bobby and Jody are having naps, Rob's in his room, and Barry and Tommy are in theirs," Frank responded. "And Kevin went back up to Heaven to let the other Angels know what was going on. He said to let you know they were all up ther standing by, in case you need them."

Cas nodded. "Can you do me a favour, Frank? Can you make sure no one disturbs us? I promise you'll be in the loop at the appropriate time, but right now, we have to talk to Sam and Dean, and no one else."

Frank looked at Cas's face, then at his sister's. The Angels were looking like someone had come along and strangled a bunch of puppies, and then run them over with a truck. Great. Whatever this last thing was that they had to do to take care of Lucifer, it must be a doozy.

"Yeah, OK, Cas," Frank said. "OK." He left the room and Cas gestured for Sam and Dean to sit down at the table.

"We need to talk to you about the instructions to rebuild Lucifer's cage," Cas said stiffly.

"Sure, Cas," Sam said, taking a sip of his beer.

Cas looked at him, then at Dean, then at Gail. He was at a loss. How could he tell his best friend that he was supposed to be sacrificed in order to rid the Earth of the Devil, and that Dean's own brother would have to be the one to do the deed?

Gail took Cas's hand for encouragement, giving it a gentle squeeze. Do you want me to say it? her eyes asked him. He's your best friend.

Which is exactly why it has to be me who tells him, Cas's eyes said back. But I appreciate the thought, my love.

"Hey, can you guys make googly eyes at each other another time?" Dean said, rolling his eyes. "How do we ice the Devil?"

Cas told him and Sam haltingly about their meeting, and about the passages on the Hell Tablet.

"Yeah, right. Nice try, Crowley," Sam said sarcastically.

"That's what we thought, too," Cas said, nodding slowly. "But they were telling the truth. That's what the passages say."

"So I'm supposed to kill Dean with Lucifer's blade," Sam said in a monotone. "Sure. Whatever. We all know that won't be happening."

"Of course not," Cas agreed. "So, what we have to do is come up with an alternative."

"OK, so we take the Tablets to Madagascar, to some kind of a church, or something. We arrange them in a star pattern. Fine. Then, what exactly does it say after that?" Sam asked. He was bringing the photo of the Hell Tablet up on his laptop, enlarging the screen. He slid the computer across the table to Cas, but his Angel friend didn't look at the screen. He didn't need to. Every bit of the shocking verse was seared into his brain.

"The black Horseman has to kill the pale Horseman in the circle," Cas said expressionlessly. "Self-explanatory. Lucifer's blade must be used to do the deed. Then, once the clock chimes the top of the hour and the church bells chime, the Tablets will somehow combine to reconstruct Lucifer's cell. The pale Horseman will be dead, and the Angels will beg the King of Hell to revive him. But even if Crowley were to try to do that, Lucifer would remain free as long as Dean was alive."

"OK, let's dispense with the poetry b.s.," Dean said tersely. "Let's bottom line it, here. Sam kills me with the knife, Satan gets stuffed back in the cell. Cas and Gail ask Crowley to revive me, but he refuses, because I have to be dead in order for Lucifer to stay gone. That about sum it up?"

"Yes, Dean," Cas replied miserably.

"Well then, it's pretty clear what needs to be done," Dean said. He took a long pull on his beer and then set it down on the table.

"Yeah, right," Sam scoffed.

"Have you got anything else in mind, Sammy?" Dean asked his brother, looking sidelong at him.

"Yeah, Dean. Yeah. Anything, besides that," Sam retorted.

"I hate to say this, but I don't see any way to circumvent the instructions," Cas mused aloud. "These kinds of things are quite specific for a reason."

"Give it time, Cas," Sam said, growing agitated. "We just had this sprung on us. Give me time to think." He looked at Gail. "You're being very quiet," he said to her. "What do you have to say about this whole thing?"

Gail had tuned out throughout most of this conversation. They'd just been going over familiar ground, anyway. She had reached over and slid the laptop in front of herself, and she was looking at it blankly. But this was stupid; she was still very inexperienced at the language. If all of those guys said the same thing, she wasn't going to see anything different. And their lives weren't like a Disney movie. No one was going to look at the ancient Enochian and say, "Hey! You've all made a mistake! All Sam has to do to Dean with the blade is cut his brother's hair with it!" Then everybody would smile and laugh with relief, Dean would get a haircut from his brother, and everyone would live happily ever after. No, this was their reality, where Bambi's mother dies, Old Yeller gets shot, and Rapunzel never gets out of the tower. She dies there of old age, never having met the man she loves. God was the cruelest Father in the universe. No wonder so many people were atheists. No wonder people turned to weird religions, or black magic.

"You know what I have to say, Sam?" Gail said bitterly. "I say you can just take all of those books you have on those shelves over there and shove them up - " She cut herself off mid-sentence.

Cas looked at her in surprise, but Dean nodded his approval. He understood. Cas hadn't spent much of the past year with Gail, but the Winchesters had, and she was showing that hard edge she had acquired during the past year now. And furthermore, Dean happened to agree with her. What good were all those fancy books and all that education, anyway? God had basically put out a contract on Dean, and it had been thousands and thousands of years in the making. He guessed he should be flattered. Not everybody was deemed good enough to be God's Designated Hitter.

"I think you and Cas need to go out for a few drinks," Gail said suddenly, looking at Dean. "In fact, take everyone here with you. Sam and I need to brainstorm, and we need to be alone."

"We've got tons of booze here," Dean pointed out. "If you and Sam want to spitball ideas, we'll leave you alone. But I'll tell you something, Gail. If we don't have anything by tomorrow at this time, I say we need to go ahead. I'm not gonna have any more deaths on my conscience."

"No, I want you all to go out," Gail insisted, agitated. "Now."

"What's going on with you?" Cas asked her, his eyes narrowing. "Why do you want us to leave so badly?"

"Because you'll all be a distraction," she told him. "Because, I just do. You vowed to obey, didn't you? Well then, obey!"

Cas frowned deeply. This was strange behaviour for Gail. Then again, this was a very unique situation. They'd had their little dust-ups before, but they had always ended up coming clean with each other. Perhaps she had an idea that she didn't want to express in front of Dean, in case it gave him false hope. But if Cas were to be honest, it hurt him a little that she had picked Sam to brainstorm with instead of himself. But Cas couldn't personalize the situation right now. Their best friend's life was at stake, and that was the paramount issue.

He sighed, rising from his chair. "Come on, Dean. We'll collect Frank and the others and go to that Hunter bar you like." He looked down at Gail. "Please call me when you're ready for us to come back," Cas said, with a bit of a cool undertone to his voice. But he bent down dutifully to kiss her on the cheek, and then he and Dean walked down the hallway.

Gail waited a few minutes, and then she held a hand up to Sam, then popped down the hallway to make sure. But it appeared as if everyone was indeed gone. Good. She hadn't wanted to take the chance of anyone overhearing what she was about to propose.

She popped into the room with the bar and grabbed the bottle of whiskey by its neck, and then she popped herself back into the library, pouring a drink for herself and one for Sam.

Sam looked at her. "Do you want me to go get the ginger ale?" he asked Gail, starting to rise from his chair.

"No, no," Gail replied hastily. She sat down beside him, in the chair that Dean had recently vacated. It was still warm. That seemed symbolic to her, somehow. She raised her glass to Sam. "Let's have a drink, Sam, and then I'll tell you what I'm really thinking about."

Sam settled back in his chair and clinked his glass with hers. They drank, and Gail made a face that would have caused Sam to laugh out loud under different circumstances.

"So...?" Sam prompted.

"When I was ranting about the books, I suddenly remembered that there IS a book in there which might be useful to us, after all," she said to him.

"Oh? And which one is that?" Sam asked, his brow furrowing.

Gail got up from her chair and went over to the bookshelves. She moved between them, and Sam lost sight of her. Where was she going, and what book might she be talking about? Ancient Enochian? The Bible, maybe?

She came out with a book in her hand. She moved around the table and sat back down beside him, plunking the book down on the table.

Sam looked at it, then at Gail. Then he started to smile.

Cas and Dean had agreed not to say anything to anyone about what they had just been discussing, or exactly why they were here in the bar. They had simply collected everyone who had been in the bunker and brought them here, saying that Sam and Gail needed the place to themselves to concentrate on the planning of the final phase of the mission.

Frank hadn't cared one way or the other. He liked the Hunter bar, and he could drink as easily here as he could at the bunker. Plus the bar had pool tables, a pinball game, and a few old-time arcade games. Good deal. They'd even brought Rob, who was over the moon to be let out of the bunker for a change. The pool table was occupied right now, so Frank was teaching Rob how to play pinball and Jody was looking on, having stated that she would take on the winner. She was feeling a little better now. Jody hadn't really been napping; she'd just felt a little light-headed again when they had gotten back from New York, so she'd been laying down, waiting for it to pass. Clearly, it was time to go back and see her doctor friend. This was getting ridiculous.

Barry and Tommy hadn't minded coming here with the group, as well. Luckily, they'd finished doing what couples sometimes did by the time that Frank had knocked on their door, and they'd been dozing lightly in each others' arms. Barry hadn't been anywhere but the bunker and Cas and Gail's house for so long that he'd been really excited about the prospect of going out.

Bobby actually had been napping, but as soon as Frank had mentioned where they were going, he'd been on board, too. He had spent many happy hours, both literally and figuratively, at that particular watering hole. He was sitting with Cas and Dean now.

"So, what did Crowley and Metatron say?" Bobby asked Cas.

"I told you, Bobby: we're not prepared to say, not until Sam and Gail do a bit more research," the Angel replied.

Bobby looked at him suspiciously, then he looked at Dean. "What do you know about this?"

"Nothing. I don't know anything. Not a damn thing," Dean said quickly. "Oh, look. The pool table's opened up. Frank's already got his quarters on there, but I'm gonna go tell him I'm next." He hopped up from his seat.

Bobby stared at Cas, but Cas just sat there. He was being inscrutable. If Bobby wanted to get information out of him, he was going to have to try a lot harder than that. But Cas was thinking about Gail now. She had spoken to him very harshly, and she had been a little too adamant about getting everyone out of the bunker. What was going on in that head of hers? Sam would never let her do anything dangerous, of course, but still...It was driving Cas crazy. He had to know. If she got angry with him, they would just have to deal with it.

Cas walked over to where Dean was standing beside Frank at the pool table. He told the men quietly that he was going to pop over to the bunker to see how things were coming along, but that they should keep on having fun. Call him on his cell if they needed him.

"Sure, Cas," Frank said. "This is a bar full of Hunters, so unless Lucifer walks in here like some kind of gunslinger, I think we've got pretty much everything else covered."

Cas nodded. He walked into the mens' room, waited until he was alone, and then he disappeared.

"So, what do you think?" Gail asked Sam eagerly. "Could this be a plan?"

They were studying Rowena's spell book; specifically, the last couple of pages. Sam's forehead was wrinkling as he scanned the spell. "I dunno, Gail," Sam said slowly. "This is the most complex spell I've ever seen."

"Well, considering that it brings people back from the dead, I should hope so," she said, almost cheerfully. Gail was excited now. This was the best idea she'd ever had. She was sure it was going to work. "Besides, I really don't think it's that hard," she added. "There are a couple of weird ingredients, sure. But didn't you tell me you have some contacts in the occult business? Plus, I've seen some of this stuff laying around in the storage room. The original bones should be no problem, and yes, this one will be a little tricky, but I'm sure there's a way we can pull it off." She looked at Dean's brother. "Sam, we can do this. It's a loophole, and it's a fantastic one. It's a win-win. We put Lucifer away and throw away the key, and then we revive Dean ourselves. Once Lucifer's gone, we can get our guy back, and we won't need Crowley to do it."

Sam was excited by the idea too, but he was trying to think it through. The time to find the flaw in the plan was now, before they bought into it. He couldn't see anything inherently wrong with it, but: "Maybe we'd better ask Cas what he thinks, before we tell Dean," he said to Gail.

"Oh no, we're not telling Cas about this," she said, shaking her head vigorously.

"What do you mean, we're not telling Cas about it?" Sam said, puzzled.

"Exactly that," Gail replied, frowning. "He'd freak out. Remember how angry he got with Bobby about Rowena, and this book? Actually, I'm amazed he hasn't burned it by now. You know how he feels about dark magic, Sam. And bringing somebody back from the dead this way is the darkest magic of all."

"Yes, it is, and that's why we're not going to be doing that," Cas said. He'd appeared in the library just in time to hear what she'd said. He rushed forward to where she and Sam were sitting. "I knew you were up to something," Cas said angrily. "Well, you can just forget about that. I won't allow it."

"Excuse me? You won't allow it? I don't recall Metatron and Crowley saying it was YOU who was going to have to die," Gail said tartly. "I think we should bring this up with Dean and see what HE thinks."

"No, Gail. No," Cas insisted. "I can't condone this, and I can't allow it. We'll have to think of another way. Actually, I might have an idea: I'm going to go up to Heaven and comb through the ancient records, to see if there's any sort of loophole. We might be able to use one of the Holy objects to solve the problem. I would much rather use sacred means than black magic, and I'm sure that Dean would, too."

"Fine, then. I'll come with you and help," Gail said, getting up from her chair. She was still a little annoyed with her husband for busting in here and telling them what not to do, but what he was proposing actually sounded constructive to her. And he was also right. If they could use something from Heaven, she would much prefer that, too.

But Cas was still frowning. "I'm sorry, Gail, but I'll have to do that alone. The Archive Room in Heaven is extremely restrictive. Only Upper Echelon can access it, and I'm the only one who is high enough on the scale to be able to access those records, because I'm the longest-serving. I would love to have you with me, but I know you would be denied access. How about if you and Sam start looking on the Internet, while I'm doing that?"

She was looking at him balefully now. Upper Echelon, her ass. While she completely believed that was true, she was an Original, wasn't she? Heaven seemed pretty arbitrary with their rules. Hopefully, it didn't have anything to do with her gender. If it did, Cas might just be trying to be diplomatic about it. But she'd better let it go. She didn't want to be like Paul used to be. When they'd first met him, he would pounce on anything that anyone said or did as being racist, if he didn't like it. There was a danger that she could become the same way, finding sexism around every corner, especially when it came to Heaven. But she didn't want to be that way. Her heart still hurt over the loss of Paul. There was no way they were losing Dean, too. No way.

Gail sighed. "OK, sweetie." She got up and walked over to where he stood. "We'll see you soon." She put her arms around him and hugged him, and he kissed her on the forehead. "We'll figure this out together, my love," Cas told her. Then he winked himself to Heaven, and Gail walked back to the table. She sat down heavily, looking at Rowena's spell book. She closed it slowly, then looked at Sam.

"Hide this somewhere," Gail said to Sam. His eyebrows raised, and she gave him a half-shrug. "Just in case," she added. Sam nodded slowly. He scooped the book from the table and rose from his chair, heading down the hallway as Gail opened his laptop.

Hours passed, and finally, Cas reappeared at the bar.

"Where have you been?" Dean said impatiently. "We were about to call a couple of cabs!"

Cas was upset. He'd been so full of hope when he'd gone up to Heaven. There was so much information in the Archive Room. Pretty much everything, from the beginning of time. All of the files were labelled and neatly organized, dating back to the time of Creation itself. There had to be something in there that he could use. There just had to be. But he'd spent hours pulling the files, scanning through them for information, and he'd come up completely empty. He'd ended up sitting on the floor with files all around him, tossing the folders to one side in frustration as he'd realized that there was no help to be had in any of them.

"Hey, here's our Uber Angel now," Frank said, approaching them. He slung his arm around Dean's shoulders. "See, that joke works on two levels," Frank added. "One, because Cas is, like, a super Angel, and two, because he's our ride. THAT'S how you tell a joke, Winchester."

"I think my husband's a little drunk," Jody said, smirking. "We'd better get this lightweight home." She put one arm around Frank, and the other around Rob.

Cas took the group outside. It was fully dark out now and there was no one in sight, so he winked them all back to the bunker.

Sam and Gail were sitting morosely at the library table, where Cas had left them. Sam was drinking coffee now, bound and determined that he wasn't going to sleep again until they had the answer. But they were in the same boat as Cas; they hadn't been able to come up with anything of use.

"What's the matter, kiddo?" Frank asked Gail, seeing the look on her face. "That big brain of yours letting you down? Relax. Have a drink."

She frowned at her brother. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Frank. Have some coffee."

"That's right. I have no idea what I'm talking about," he retorted. "So, does somebody here want to enlighten me?"

Cas sighed. "Maybe it's time for us all to have a brainstorming session. Sometimes, ideas can come from the most unexpected sources."

"Yeah, even us dummies have our moments," Frank said good-naturedly. He moved over to stand behind his sister and Sam and leaned down to look at the computer screen. "So, what are we researching?"

Sam closed the laptop with a bang, but not before Frank had seen the subject matter of the page they'd been looking at. "Who are you trying to almost-kill?" he asked them.

"What do you mean, almost-kill?" Dean said, looking sharply at his brother.

"We were trying to find a cheat," Sam told him.

"OK, that's it," Frank said, frowning. "What the hell is going on?"

"Sit down, and we'll tell you," Cas said. Gail got up from her seat beside Sam and came around the table to take her usual seat beside her husband as they all sat down. "Just a minute," Cas said, holding up his hand. "I just called Chuck and asked him to bring our friends from Heaven. Everyone should hear about this. Besides, as I said, one can never know where ideas can come from."

But once everyone was gathered and Cas told them what the Tablet said, there were no ideas forthcoming. They all talked for about another hour or so, but not one of them could come up with a viable plan. There didn't seem to be any way to get around it.

"If Crowley can't revive Dean, can't we just revive him by medical means?" Tommy mused aloud. "Rush him to the hospital right afterwards?"

"I have to be dead, though, don't I?" Dean said bluntly.

"Yeah, but if your vitals have stopped, we could have the doctors bring you back," Sam remarked. "But there's only one problem with that. If we rush you to the hospital and revive you, you'll be alive."

"And there's the dilemma," Ethan chipped in. "He has to stay dead."

"Says who?" Bobby said angrily. He couldn't believe this bull. They'd gone through all of that stuff with the Tablets and the blade just for this? Just so they could be told to kill the heart of their group? Because if Sam was the brains and Cas was the soul, then Dean was surely the heart. Dean was the man who should have been Bobby's son. And Sam too, to a lesser extent, although Bobby would never, ever make that distinction to the brothers themselves. This whole thing was killing Bobby. Why couldn't it have been him? He would gladly volunteer to be the sacrifice, if that meant that it didn't have to be Dean. Bobby was tired all the time now, and his body constantly ached. He didn't belong here anymore; not as a human, anyway. The older he got, the less effective he would become, until he was just an object of pity. He'd sooner be dead than to see that kind of pity in any of their eyes.

"The Tablet says so," Cas said, frowning. "It says that Lucifer will roam the Earth as long as Dean survives."

"Has anybody considered that this might be an Abraham-type situation?" Chuck said suddenly.

All heads turned to look at him. Cas knew immediately what Chuck was talking about, of course. The same thing had occurred to Cas when he had been in the Archive Room in Heaven. One of the first files he'd pulled was Abraham's. The story was well-known amongst humans. But as usual, people only knew part of the story. The truth was worse, as was often the case with Biblical stories. Castiel had already known about that, of course, but he had pulled the file anyway, just on the off chance that he had missed something in his recollection of the incident.

"Nice try, Chuck," Cas said now. "But it's a fallacy that our Father relented that day, when he stayed Abraham's hand."

"What are you talking about, Cas?" Frank said irritably.

"The legend is that God asked Abraham to bring his son Isaac up to the mountaintop to sacrifice him, thereby proving his devotion to the Almighty," Cas explained to the group. "But the truth is that Abraham brought his son up there of his own accord. He'd been intending to murder the boy for years. Somewhere along the line, Abraham had gotten the idea that Isaac was not his son, but the product of adultery between Abraham's wife, and a Demon. While his delusion was at its height, Abraham took Isaac up the mountain and tried to kill him with a dagger. But God intervened and stopped him. So the end result was the same, but when the Bible was written, the facts were obscured, because Abraham was a hero of his time."

"You're kidding," Frank said in amazement. "So that was one big cover-up?"

Castiel gave him a half-shrug. "That's no different from many of your modern biographers, writing revisionist history to protect the reputations of many of your American heroes. Charles Lindbergh, John F. Kennedy, Neil Armstrong..."

Sam was nodding. He could see exactly what Cas was talking about. It was only natural. People wanted their heroes to be flawless, beacons of virtue. But quite often, the most heroic people turned out to be the ones who were the most messed up. Look at Cas. Look at Dean, and Sam himself. They had performed a lot of heroic deeds, but none of them were exactly poster boys for how to ideally live your life.

But now, Sam's hopes had been dashed again. For a split second, he'd thought that Chuck might be on to something. Maybe God was setting it up as a test, to see if they were willing to do whatever it took to rid the Earth of Lucifer. Maybe once Sam and Dean got in that circle and Sam raised Lucifer's blade to kill his own brother, God would stay his hand, just as He'd done with Abraham. But now, Cas was telling them that that had all been a big lie. God hadn't asked for the sacrifice. That had always made Sam wonder. It had seemed unnecessarily cruel on God's part. Asking someone to murder their own son just to prove their devotion? But then again, look at what they were discussing right now. Was it really that much different? God should know that killing Dean would tear Sam apart. But, how could he refuse? If this was the only way, how could Sam put his brother ahead of the entire human race and expect to sleep at night?

"OK, I'm calling it," Dean said. "Thanks for trying, everybody, but we're just kidding ourselves. We all know there's no other way. No cheats, no loopholes. I'm gonna take one day for myself tomorrow, to do my farewell tour, and then you guys can take us to Madagascar at sunrise, day after tomorrow," he finished, looking at Cas and Gail.

"No," Cas said, tight-lipped. "No. We're not giving up. We'll think of something."

"I don't wanna drag this out, Cas," Dean said wearily. "You know Lucifer's not gonna just sit around much longer. From now on, every person he kills will be my responsibility."

"I won't let you sacrifice yourself, Dean," Cas insisted stubbornly.

"Yeah?" Dean retorted. "Well, guess what? This isn't your decision. It's me who gets to decide, and I've decided I have to do it. We've gotta get rid of Lucifer, Cas. How many more dead babies can I have on my conscience?"

"That wasn't your fault, Dean," Gail spoke up.

"Maybe not, but the next one will be. Now that we know how to put him away, we've got to pull the trigger, Gail. What kind of a person would I be if I put my own life ahead of the whole human race?" Dean asked her.

Gail had no answer for that, because she knew that he was right. But if she was going to go down, she was going to go down swinging.

"Would everyone else please leave us alone for a minute?" Gail asked the other Angels and their human friends. "We need to talk to Sam and Dean."

"Again?" Frank moaned. "You guys aren't the only ones who care about Dean, you know."

Gail was agitated. She knew that, but she couldn't afford to worry about a few fractured feelings right now. They were running out of time. "Fine," she said in a clipped tone. She grabbed Cas's hand. "Come here," she said. She tugged her husband to his feet, then pulled him around to the other side of the table. "Talk amongst yourselves," Gail said tartly. She put one hand on Dean's shoulder and the hand that was holding Cas's on Sam's shoulder, and winked them out of the bunker.

They reappeared in Cas and Gail's house. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't deal with that right now," Gail told the men. "I've got something to talk to you about, and I didn't want my brother wasting time with his whining."

"OK, General Gail," Dean said sardonically. "What's up?"

"I can bring you back to life," she told him.

"Not this, again," Cas said, rolling his eyes. "Why get his hopes up like this?"

"Because I can do it, Cas," she insisted. "Sit down, you guys. We need to talk about this." They all sat down in the living room. She was wound up now, determined to have her say. "Cas knows about this, but I don't think we ever told the both of you," Gail said to the Winchesters. "When we were looking at the markings on our blades, Crowley told me that mine showed that I had the ability to do any magic spell that exists. I thought he was being funny at the time. Well, what he considers funny, anyway. And, it was too weird: why would God give me the power to do witchcraft? But now, I know why He did that. Because He knew we were going to have to do this, and He wanted to give us a loophole."

"And I said no," Cas said sternly. "God did not give you special powers so that you could abuse them by dabbling in the black arts."

"I thought about that too, so I prayed to him while you were in Heaven," Gail told Cas. "I said if you were able to come up with something there, anything at all, regardless of how far-fetched it might be, that I would drop the idea. But you didn't. This is all we've got, Cas."

"You can't bargain with our Father like that," Cas shot back. "Believe me, I've tried. Many times."

Gail shrugged. "Whatever. That may very well be, but I tried out a spell from the book when you were gone, and it worked. I picked a lesser spell, got the ingredients from the storage room and the kitchen, and successfully performed the spell. And, guess what? No bolt of lightning, no clap of thunder. I told Sam to hide five items around the bunker, and I performed a locator spell. First, I described all five of the items he had hidden in detail to him, and then I walked around and found them all, in just a couple of minutes."

"It was pretty amazing," Sam confirmed, nodding. "And it was kind of funny, too. She said one of the socks I'd hidden was blue. I told her she was wrong, that it was black. But when she found it, it turned out that she was right. The lighting was dim where I had put it, and I'd thought it was black, but it was actually dark blue."

Cas was fuming. "I don't care. I told you not to use that book. I should have confiscated it when I had the chance. But I never dreamed you would go behind my back like that."

"Yes, I'm practicing the dark arts. Finding laundry. Ooooo. Scary. Fine; the next time one of your socks goes missing, you can find it yourself, then," she said sarcastically.

"This isn't funny, Gail," Cas shot back. "I reiterate, for the last time: I don't want you to mess around with that book any more. I don't want you to do it. Is that clear? Are we understood?"

"I have to do it, Cas!" she shouted. "We're not letting Dean stay dead! I can't, Sam can't, and neither can you! He's your best friend, Cas! Your brother!"

"Quit fighting, you guys," Sam said, looking uncomfortable.

"Yeah. Just...don't," Dean said, frowning.

"OK, well...what do you think, Dean?" she appealed to him. "Don't you think it's a great idea?"

Dean looked from Gail to Cas, and back again. How the hell did he know? On the one hand, if Gail could successfully bring him back from the dead, why wouldn't he want that? She was looking at him with bright, shining eyes. Dean didn't want to be dead. He wanted to stay here and hang out with his friends. No, his family, he amended to himself. But on the other hand, Cas's face had about ten different expressions on it at the moment, and none of them were good. He was obviously angry at Gail for having defied him and for using that spell book. Dean hadn't been privy to their earlier conversation with Sam, but he didn't need to be a genius to figure it out. He knew how Cas felt about Rowena, and her spell book. Dean actually felt the same way. And he knew Cas wasn't objecting out of churlishness, or any malice towards him. Dean knew that Cas would lay down his own life for his friend, in a heartbeat. But dark magic was dark magic, and Dean knew that there was a reason for Cas to be objecting so strongly.

"No, I don't," Dean told Gail. "I want you to stay out of it. Sammy? What do you think?"

Sam had been looking at the three of them, and he frowned now. "You're an Angel, Gail," Sam said shortly. "You shouldn't be getting mixed up with dark magic. We'll figure something else out."

Gail was astonished. Sam and Dean were selling her out. "So you'd rather stay dead than have me use a spell that we know actually works?" she said to Dean incredulously.

"How do we know it works?" he asked her. "Because it's in a book?"

"How do you think Crowley came back, after Cas killed him in the den, that day we all died?!" she exclaimed. "Rowena revived him, using that spell."

"Yeah, well, that's not exactly a selling point," Dean retorted. "A witch, using dark magic to revive the King of Hell. We're supposed to be the good guys here, Gail."

"We ARE the good guys," she wailed. "That's why you have to survive!"

"No, Gail. That's why I don't," he said bluntly. "If I don't do what God wants me to do, I'll be the biggest douche in the world." Dean took her hand. "Come on, take us back to the bunker. I want to have a few drinks with Frank and Bobby, and then try to get a couple of hours' sleep. I have a list that's as long as my arm of things I want to do tomorrow."

So the Angels winked the Winchesters back to the bunker. Everyone was still sitting around discussing the dilemma, but they were no further ahead than they had been before.

"What was THAT all about?" Frank asked Gail.

"Nothing. Never mind. It wasn't important, obviously," she said, tight-lipped.

"Come on, Frank, let's have a drink. You too, Jodes. And Bobby. Everybody," Dean said, gesturing to all of his friends. "Since I won't be around for it, let's have my wake now. You can all take turns saying great things about me, and I'll just smile and nod. Then I'm gonna try to get a few hours' sleep, 'cause I've got a pretty long bucket list tomorrow. Pour me a drink, Frank. You can go first, if you want."

"You're a giant ass," Frank told Dean, but he was pouring him a drink as he said it. He looked at Sam. "You're not really going along with this, are you?" Frank asked Dean's brother.

Sam shrugged uncomfortably. "We don't really see a choice, Frank."

"You don't?" Frank said incredulously. "You don't?" His voice was rising. "Well, I'll give you a choice: how about if you don't? How about if you just...don't?" He looked at Cas. "And, you? What are YOU doing about this?"

"There's nothing I can do about it, Frank," Cas said wearily.

"Really? Really. You're Angel Number One. You go back to the time of Creation. I've seen you kill dozens of enemies all at once, bring Biblical plagues down on Egypt, heal people, and make it rain. I've seen your picture in people's houses in Africa, above altars. I've seen you stand up to Lucifer, and the King of Hell, and rumour has it you stood up to God Himself. And now, you're gonna stand there and tell me you're prepared to just sit back and watch one of your brothers kill another one of your brothers? What's wrong with you?"

Cas's teeth were clenched now. "What would you have me do, Frank? You heard us, didn't you? The Tablet states - "

"The Tablet?" Frank interrupted. "Who cares? You're talking about Sam, murdering Dean! How do you think that's going to affect Sam, going forward? Not to mention your own wife. And you, Cas? Dean is your best friend, isn't he? And how's it supposed to affect me? You may not have noticed, but Sam and Dean are like my brothers too, Cas! I've already lost Matty this year! What makes your guys' loss any bigger than mine?" Gail was alarmed to see that Frank was in tears now. And now, she was getting angry again.

Frank's eyes fell on her. "What are you looking at?" he asked her. "Don't tell me, let me guess: you think I'm being mean to your husband. Well, boo hoo. Aren't you supposed to have awesome powers, too? Why don't YOU do something, then?"

Gail was seething. If he only knew. Cas looked at her sharply, but Gail closed her hands into fists and counted to ten. There was no percentage in pointing out that she'd been fighting and fighting for the chance to do something about it, but she'd been shot down by the very people her brother was berating now.

"I'll tell you what, Frank," she said in a shaky voice. "Since you're so much better than us at this sort of thing, then why don't YOU do something? The floor is yours. Tell us: exactly what should we be doing? How do we keep Dean alive, while getting rid of Lucifer? Don't let us muddle along without your blinding brilliance any more. Ready? Go."

"You know what? You're a sarcastic little - " Frank began, but Cas cut him off. "You may be my brother-in-law, Frank, but I would be very careful about how you finish that sentence," Cas said in his quiet voice. "Your sister is not to blame for any of this. Nor am I. As you quite astutely pointed out, Sam and Dean are like my brothers. If I could take this cup away from Dean and drink it myself, I would. I will never be the same, once he is gone. Never. HIs death will break my heart. And this situation is already driving a wedge between all of us. Look around you. Look at the way your sister is looking at me right now. Once Dean dies, I will have lost everything, everything I ever cared about. So if it makes you feel any better to blame me for all of this, you just go right ahead, Frank. I don't have anything left for you to take away from me. I need to be alone now."

Cas popped out of the bunker.

There was silence for a moment. Everybody looked at each other, shell-shocked. They had all cracked at one point or another over the past year, but Cas never had. He had kept them all from abandoning hope, even when things had looked the darkest. He was entitled to his breakdown, but in a way, it couldn't have happened at a worse time. Now they were without their leader, when morale was arguably at its lowest.

Gail had had it. She looked at Chuck. "Here's what's going to happen," she said to her Angel friend. "You're going to take our fellow Angels here to Heaven's library and look through every book in the place. Kevin, you're going to look at all the Tablets on the library's computer and see if you can find anything helpful on them, anything at all. We have just over 24 hours, and none of us sleep. I'll come check on you later and I'll try to pitch in and help if I can. Obviously, if you can find anything that looks like anything, call me immediately. Okay?"

"Sure, Gail," Chuck replied. He looked at the other Angels, and then they all winked out simultaneously.

Gail walked over to Barry and Tommy. "You guys are in charge of coffee, snacks, and morale." Then she put her hand on Rob's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "You and I haven't talked about this, and now I realize that we really should have. But I don't have any time for finesse now, so here goes: I want you to go to your room, unplug all your devices, sit on your bed, and concentrate. Clear your mind and try to be an empty canvas. See if you can come up with any kind of premonition about your Uncle Dean."

Rob nodded somberly. He was always saying he wanted to be treated like an adult, and his Aunt Gail was treating him like that now, giving him a job to do. He was going to try his best. He didn't want his Uncle Dean to die, and he didn't want his Uncle Sam to have to kill him. Even though Rob didn't have a brother, he was smart enough to realize what that would do to Sam. And the hurt that he saw in everyone's eyes was screaming out to be healed. Rob knew that Gail was trying to prevent that from happening now, and he respected her for it. He turned around and walked down the hallway to his room without saying a word.

Gail looked at Bobby, Jody, Sam, and Dean. She pointedly avoided looking at her brother for the moment. "I know the four of you go way back together, so I'm not going to presume to tell any of you how to feel, or how to behave. I would like to offer an apology on behalf of my brother, though. He'll be apologizing to all of you in a minute, I'm sure, and hopefully to my husband too, once I find him. But I know that all four of you, plus Cas, have been in sticky situations before, and you've gotten out of them. Without Frank's help, and without mine. So I'm going to go find Cas, and in the meantime, Frank's going to sit down and have a drink with you. And when he does, he's going to apologize for being the world's biggest asshat." She looked at her brother. "Now, sit."

He regarded her, bemused. "Well, look who decided to take charge," Frank said with a smile. "Maybe when you guys have that election in Heaven, it's you they should be voting for."

Gail allowed herself a tight smile. "You'd better hope not. I've often thought you could use a good smiting." Then she put her hand on her brother's arm. "Sit," she said again. "I'll be back in a bit."

As Frank sat down with the others and poured himself a drink, Gail winked herself outside. She wanted to get a breath of fresh air and think for a moment before she set off to look for Cas. But when she popped outside the back door, there was Cas, sitting on one of the chaise lawn chairs.

"You shouldn't be out here," he said automatically, in a dull voice.

"You know, I'm getting a little bit tired of you telling me what to do," she said. But her lips were twitching slightly now, because she was thinking about what Frank had just said to her. "We haven't had that election in Heaven yet, you know. And even once the voters have spoken, just because you'll be God doesn't mean I'm finally going to obey you, you know."

Cas turned his head slowly to look at her. What was she babbling about? Him, being God? "You realize that even if I were God, I still wouldn't be able to revive Dean, right?" he asked her tonelessly.

Gail sighed. She walked over to where he sat. "Skootch over," she told him. He moved over, and she sat beside him. "Yes, I realize that, Cas," she said softly. They sat there in silence for a moment, and then she said, "When you're ready to go back inside, I told Frank you'll be expecting his apology."

Cas took her hand. "I love Dean," he said to her. "Next to you, he's the most important person in the world to me. If I let him die, I'll never be able to forgive myself. But if I were to let you revive him using that unholy book, I don't know if I would ever be able to forgive you, either."

Gail nodded slowly. So, that was how things stood, then. "I want you to do something for me," she said to him. "I want you to go back inside and have a couple of drinks with your friends. Maybe do some reminiscing. Tell some stories about the old days. I think that's what Dean wants to do the most, right now. I know you feel guilty about your stance regarding the book. I'm sure that Dean doesn't hold it against you, but maybe the two of you want to talk about that, anyway. Or not. You guys should talk about anything you feel like talking about. Dean wanted me to stay out of it, so I'm staying out of it."

Cas's eyes searched her face. It was nighttime now, but there was a soft porch light on near the door that Sam or someone had installed a while back, and he could see Gail quite well. Cas had always thought of her as beautiful, but she had always been especially beautiful in soft lighting. And now, she was showing the beauty that was in her soul. He'd thought for sure that she would want nothing further to do with him once he had put his foot down and told her there would be no dark magic spell performed to bring Dean back from the dead. Castiel knew how angry his wife had been about that. He knew how much she loved Dean. She loved Dean as much as Cas himself did. Gail and Dean teased and squabbled, and the more they did, the deeper their love grew. His best friend had always taken up for Gail when it counted, both when he'd been Sir Dean and then when he'd been Brother Winchester. And now, Cas was just going to let Dean die. And why? Because of some Biblical nonsense? Because the Tablet said so? When Frank had said that, it had made Cas the angriest of all the remarks he'd made, because it had hit so close to home. Cas had been thinking the same thing. Dean was going to die because the Tablet had decreed that it be so, and Cas was going to forbid Gail from bringing their best friend and brother back to life because of his principles. His damn principles. Gail may not realize it, but Cas had been sorely tempted to overlook his principles this time. Just this once, couldn't he look the other way, for a very excellent reason? Yes, "just this once". The phrase that provided the lubricant for the slipperiest of slopes. Morals were morals, and principles were principles. You either had them, or you didn't. You couldn't pick and choose; otherwise, you might as well not even bother. No one had ever said that doing the right thing was easy. In fact, it was usually quite the opposite. Look at all the martyrs, back in the day. The virtuous frequently died young, and even if they didn't, they often suffered for years and years. Look at himself and Gail, as prime examples. Look at how much they had suffered already, on the road to self-improvement. By the time they were good enough to pass through the eye of the needle, they would be so battered and bruised that they might no longer even care.

Still, Gail had come out here to him and offered him the sweetest olive branch he could ever have hoped for. It was more than Cas had expected, and it was more than he deserved. Now, he was feeling the siren song of her invitation. Cas very much wanted to explain to Dean why he couldn't sanction his friend's revival. Based on their past history, Cas was pretty sure Dean would understand. Dean had never hesitated to volunteer to step up to the plate before, if the cause was just. That was one of the first traits the two men had discovered that they had in common, and one of the first things they'd bonded over. At a glance, Cas and Dean would seem, to an observer or a casual acquaintance, to be almost diametrically opposite. Dean was sardonic and irreverent; Cas was serious, but kind-hearted. Dean took huge bites out of life, literally and metaphorically speaking, whereas Cas had always been more reticent. But in the last few years, the men had influenced each other in positive ways. Dean had taught Cas to loosen up, have some fun once in a while, and express his feelings more freely. And Cas had penetrated the hard shell of protection that Dean had built around him, helping Dean to feel free to express his emotions without fear of recrimination. It was easier sometimes for Dean to talk to Cas because he didn't feel the responsibility to take care of Cas, like he did with Sammy.

And then the trio had met Gail and instantly, they'd had four legs for their table. She had fit in immediately, just like the middle piece in the jigsaw puzzle they'd been looking to find. She'd done wondrous things for them too, things she wasn't even aware of. For years, Sam had always silently resented the fact that the domestic chores had always seemed to fall to him, for some reason. But when Gail had come along, even though she'd confided in Sam that she felt the same way, when she had begun to help him with the household duties, they had suddenly become a pleasure for him. And Gail challenged him intellectually, too. She looked up to him for his intelligence and enjoyed his vocabulary and his literary references. Dean frequently made fun of those, and Cas hadn't always understood them.

Gail had been good for Dean, too. If Cas had softened the elder Winchester as far as Dean's emotional side went, Gail had positively melted him. She was truly the sister he teased he had never wanted. But he was a liar. Dean had always known, deep down, that his and Sam's family had always been incomplete. When they'd found Gail that night, Dean had been infected by the Mark of Cain. But as soon as Gail had sat in the back seat of the Impala and poked her head through to the front to talk to him and Sam for the first time, Dean had felt a sense of deja vu so strong that it had almost made him drive into the ditch. He'd known almost right away that Sam had a thing for her, too. But Dean hadn't said much about it, probably because he'd realized it was going to be a moot point.

And the moment that Cas had walked into the bunker, Dean's unconscious intuition had been proven right. He had been kind of obsessed with his own problems at the time, but Dean had instinctively sensed something between Gail and Cas, like the low-grade hum of a radio frequency. At least, it had been low-grade that first night. Both Dean and Sam had been faintly aware that there was something the matter with Cas when he had arrived that night, but they hadn't realized how serious it was. But Gail had taken matters into her own hands even back then, and that was the first thing about her that had really gotten Dean's attention. The Mark had made him mistrust her at the time, but come the next day, when Cas had rushed into the kitchen, moving like a teenager, Dean had begun to realize that Gail was a person of real substance.

He had also realized by then that Sam was out of luck, big-time. When Cas had embraced Gail to thank her for what she had done for him, Dean had looked at their faces. Gail's had shown happy surprise, and when Cas had put his arms around her and held her, Dean had seen the look of pure contentment on her face. It was a maudlin, sweet-as-sugar cliche, but Gail had looked to Dean as if she'd finally found the place where she really belonged. Then Dean's eyes had shifted to Cas. His friend was being innocently spontaneous when he had pulled Gail to him for that hug, but when she had hugged him back, Cas had looked almost comically pleased, like he hadn't really expected her to do so. Dean knew that his friend had had zero experience with women, despite Dean's efforts on his behalf in that area, in the past. But this had been different. Once Gail had hugged him back, Cas had closed his eyes and put a hand to the back of her head, as if cradling her to him. Then he had smiled. As many years as Dean had known Cas, and as many ways as he had seen his friend, Dean had never seen Cas smile quite like that. That was what total happiness looked like.

And those guys had saved Gail too, all of them. And not just literally, either. Without them, she would have been totally alone, unable to cope. But there was so much more to it than that.

Sam had challenged Gail intellectually, just as she had challenged him in the same way. She'd always been smart, but her intelligence had largely been almost like those Faberge eggs in rich peoples' homes: nice to look at, but of no real use. Sam had helped her to realize that her intelligence was a huge asset, and that it was something to be very proud of.

Then Dean had taught her about being brave and defiant, and that it was OK to wear your heart on your sleeve. Dean was usually an interesting amalgam of all three of those things, and somehow, he made it work. Gail had never been brave, or so she had thought. It had taken Dean to bring that out in her, and Dean had also shown her that it was possible to be defiant yet loving at the same time. Because of the way she had been raised, Gail had never thought that could be possible.

Cas had taught her what it was like to be noble and self-sacrificing, but he had also brought her all the way into adulthood, both emotionally and physically. In many ways, she had still been a child when she had been pushed off the truck that night. But that was understandable, really. She and her brother had had to go on the run when she'd been only ten years old, and Frank had kept her as sheltered as possible for all of those years. She'd gotten all of her ideas on love from fantasy novels and G-rated movies. All very wonderful, but not exactly realistic. Then she'd gradually become a woman, but many of those kinds of things had still been a mystery to her. To his credit, Frank had done his very best to prepare Gail for some of it, but he'd only been fifteen years old, himself. Luckily, he'd had a few Sex Ed classes before they'd had to leave, and afterwards, he'd gone to the library to further his education. So a couple of years later, he'd sat Gail down and haltingly told her about menstruation. She had been incredulous, but a month or two later, she had discovered that he'd been telling the truth. Then there had been the whole sex thing, but by the time they'd gotten to that point, Frank had lost his nerve. He'd gotten her a couple of books and told her that she was smart enough to figure it out for herself, and that had pretty much been it.

So, years later, when Gail had met Cas, that was pretty much all she'd had to go on. But she had lucked out. She had met the one guy in the entire universe who knew less about sex than she did, even though he was thousands and thousands of years old. But somehow, they had made it work. She and Cas had been attracted to each other from their first meeting, like those metal filings that followed the magnet around in grade-school science. Who was the magnet and who was the metal was sometimes unclear, but the fact remained that once the couple had discovered sex with each other, they had behaved like they were the only ones who had ever done it before. Cas had honestly once thought that holding hands with a female was all he could ever aspire to, and he had fantasized about that very thing many times, when he was supposed to be paying attention at a board meeting in Heaven. For her part, Gail had known that there was a bit more to it than that. She had seen couples kissing in those old musicals she'd liked as a child, so that was what she had fantasized about. But that had been the extent of it. She hadn't known what else people did, really. The books had never actually made it plain.

Cas hadn't known, either, not exactly. But when he had met Gail, he had taken it upon himself to try to find out. Just in case. And then, when they'd gone to Las Vegas, he'd had the opportunity to try his newfound knowledge out. Or rather, Gail had given him the opportunity. Sex had been a wonderfully sweet revelation to them both, but they'd merely been humans then, and both their time and Cas's stamina had been extremely limited as a result. Now that they were Angels, they no longer had to worry about such limitations. They could, and many times they did, make love for the better part of an evening, with no adverse effects. And the variety of their lovemaking could be virtually endless. The last time they had been in bed, before they had come to the bunker to go to New York, Gail had sweetly instructed Cas to lay down, the way he usually requested her to. Then she had taken it upon herself to kiss and lick his entire body, as he usually did to her. She had kissed his whole face, then his ears, and then she had licked his neck. Then she had kissed his shoulders. He'd gotten even more muscular in the last couple of years, and she loved that. Then she had caressed his torso and kissed his chest. She knew he liked that. Then she'd kissed and licked his nipples. She liked it when he did that to her, so she thought he might like it, too. And he must have, because by the time she'd gotten to his stomach, he was already in a very excited state. But she'd really wanted him to enjoy the same sensations she enjoyed whenever he spent a lot of time doing this with her, so she'd kissed his stomach then, and licked his hip bones. She remembered how much she'd liked it when he did that to her.

Cas had liked it too, but he had begun to appreciate what his wife was talking about when she urged him to hurry up. She was driving him crazy, and when he'd felt her tongue on his hip, he'd whimpered.

"Please, Gail," he had said, and she'd smiled. She recognized the tone in his voice. But she loved him, so she wasn't interested in making him wait. When she pled with him in the same way, he always paid attention immediately. So she raised her body up and took him in her mouth. He moaned immediately, and he moved himself in and out of her. But after a minute or so, Cas asked her to kiss him. So she raised her body up further and did so, but she also guided him into her at the same time. She gave him her tongue for a moment, and he responded eagerly. But then she sat back and took his hands in hers, putting them on her breasts. He moved his thumbs gently, circling her nipples as he thrust upwards into her. Then, after a minute, his hands went to her hips and he moved her up and down, enjoying the wonderful friction.

"I love you, my darling," Cas said to her, loving the feeling of letting go. That was something she had taught him. Whenever Cas was able to be intimate with his wife, he gave himself over to her with abandon, and he knew that she felt safe enough to be the same way with him. Whatever the two of them did to each other, and with each other, as long as it was done with love, was just between the two of them. She had asked him to make love to her from behind that same night, and Cas had done so gladly, after making sure it wasn't hurting her. But she had expressed pleasure, assuring him that he should go harder and faster, and they had both enjoyed the experience. Then later, she had timidly asked him to lightly spank her a couple of times, just because she'd been curious about how that would feel. When she had done her research in reading those fan fiction stories, Gail had noticed that on the rare occasions a writer had actually written a story about Castiel having sex with a woman, spanking had been a common theme. Gail could kind of see that, in a way. She always teased Cas about being sexy when he was stern, and what she was reading could be associated with that, maybe. So she had asked Cas to do it, and even though he had been a bit taken aback by the idea, he had done as she had requested, simply because she had requested it. She'd just wanted to see what it was like, she had told him with a smile. It had nothing to do with violence, or punishment, though the latter always seemed to be the motivation represented in the stories she had looked at. Gail couldn't really even say why she'd thought the idea might be appealing. Even though she actually did find her husband sexy when he took an authoritative tone, she merely did what he said most of the time because what he'd said to do made sense to her. It certainly wasn't because he represented an authority figure to her, because Gail regarded Cas and herself as equals. She had worked very hard to make sure she was seen in that light, too. So, why the request? Gail was mystified, herself, so it was no wonder that Cas had been, too. She couldn't deny that she'd loved the feeling of his hand on her bare skin, and when he had tapped her lightly and then caressed her there immediately afterwards, she had liked that. Then he had added an extra component by kissing and licking her there, as if to atone for what, in his mind, had been striking her, even though his taps had been much more caresses than actual blows. When she'd felt his tongue on her there, it had excited her even more, and she had asked him to lay down then, so she could position herself over his mouth. Cas had grabbed her by the very spot he had been attending to a moment ago, bringing her body down onto his tongue, and she had yelled out his name. There was something to be said for what they had just done, she'd thought, although she had to admit that she had liked Cas's spin on it much better. Those stories had their moments at times, but there had been a bit of a daddy-daughter component to most of them that had ended up giving her the creeps. She much preferred the way Cas had gone about it.

For his part, Cas was thinking along those same lines. Maybe they wouldn't exactly make what they'd just done part of their regular repertoire, but every once in a while...now that they'd done it, he didn't see any harm. Gail had obviously really enjoyed what he had done, and truthfully, he had very much enjoyed it, too. Nothing excited Cas more than being able to excite his wife. The more she cried out in pure pleasure, the happier Cas was. So, when she was still, he had helped her down onto the bed and then pushed into her eagerly, and she had wrapped her legs around him, smiling.

So the two of them were teaching each other about the ways of love, and Cas was looking forward to further lessons. There was still so much more to explore. Gail sat on his lap now on the chaise lounge, professing her love for her husband. "I don't want to argue any more, Cas," she told him. "I'm sure we'll find a way. I sent the Angels to Heaven to do some more research, and Chuck said he'd call if they find anything. We'll figure it out somehow, Cas. We always have. I love you, sweetie."

Cas wrapped his arms around her, and she kissed him on the mouth. After a moment, she licked his lips and Cas's tongue met hers. He had never been able to resist kissing her like that. It was so loving, and so intimate.

"I promise you, we'll work it out, Cas," Gail repeated softly. "Do you love me? Please say you love me, sweetie. I need to hear you say it."

"Of course I love you, my darling," he said. "I'm just glad you still love me, especially after I vetoed your idea. I'm so very grateful for that, Gail. And yes, you're right; I'm sure we'll find something. I'm glad you deployed the Angels to Heaven. That's where we should be looking."

But Gail didn't want to hear him say that right now, just in case they came up empty. So she kissed him again, using her tongue, and he couldn't help but respond.

Then she broke the kiss. "Now please, go inside and spend some time with your friends," Gail said to him.

She got off Cas's lap, and he took her by the hand. "No, with OUR friends," he gently corrected her.

He winked them both back into the library area and led her over to the table to take their usual seats. The Angels had expected the mood to be gloomy, but instead, it was boisterous. Quite a bit of alcohol was being consumed, and the stories were flying around.

"Cas, c'mere," Dean said, gesturing. "Sit here, beside me. I want you to tell Frank about the time you Molotov'ed an Archangel."

"Don't forget what he called him while he was doing it," Bobby said, and he was actually laughing. Gail didn't think she'd ever seen him do that before. "That's the best part," Bobby added.

Cas looked at Gail for a moment. She released his hand, gesturing. "Go," she said to him. "It'll be nice to sit across from you for a change. That way, I can bask in your handsomeness without getting a kink in my neck." She looked across the table. "Sam, come here and sit beside me, in Cas's chair," Gail said, patting the seat. "Red Rover, Red rover, let Sam come over."

Sam and Cas traded their usual seats, and Dean began to tell the story, with the occasional interjection from Sam or Bobby. Soon they were all laughing. "So Cas is holding the thing in his hand, and he's trying to get Michael's attention, so he yells, 'Hey, Assbutt!'" Dean told everyone, and they all laughed again. Dean was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his face.

"Well, I hadn't had any experience with cursing back then," Cas said, his lips twitching with amusement. "But now, having been around you all these years, I would have a much bigger and more creative vocabulary to draw on."

Gail was looking at them all, fixing their faces in her mind. Especially Dean's. He should laugh like this more often, she thought. He was a handsome guy, but when he laughed, he looked like a happy, carefree little boy. It was really a shame he didn't have reason to laugh more often.

Dean saw Gail looking at him and he winked at her, lifting his beer bottle to her in salute. And that did it for her.

"Sam, can you help me?" Gail asked Dean's brother. "I want to go get some ginger ale for my whiskey, and you guys probably need some more beers."

"I'll help you," Cas offered, starting to rise.

"No, you sit down, sweetie," she said to him. "Think of some more funny stories to tell us. I just wanted to ask Sam something about one of the websites we visited earlier."

Cas nodded. "Oh. OK," he said. Dean was already launching into another story, and he was poking Cas, making sure he was paying attention.

Sam and Gail walked down the hallway to the kitchen, and as soon as they entered the room, he turned to her. "I'm not buying it," he said. "I know you too well."

Gail nodded. That was OK; it wasn't Sam who she was trying to deceive, anyway. That was why she had specifically requested for him to accompany her here. "Good," she said shortly. "It saves us time. I was able to fool Cas, but you have to make sure he doesn't suspect anything, too. If he thinks you're hiding something from him, he'll just use the two-finger system on you, and then we'll be finished. So, just in case, I want you to go get the book and give it to me. I'll hide it somewhere, and I'm not going to tell you where. That way, he can't get it out of you, even if he tries his best."

Now it was Sam's turn to nod. Yeah, he could see the sense in that. "I'll be right back," he said, hurrying out of the room. He was back in a minute or so. He pressed the book into her hand.

"Tell Cas I've gone up to the library to see how Chuck and the Angels are doing with the research, but keep him here," she instructed Sam. "If he protests, use any means necessary. Tell him he's got to stay here and keep Dean's morale up. Use whatever emotional blackmail you have to, Sam. This is too important."

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Are you sure you want to do this, Gail? Cas has made it very clear how he feels about it."

"Yes, and it's also very clear how much he loves Dean," she retorted. "I know he'll be angry, but when he sees Dean, alive and well, he'll thank us for it." Gail swallowed, hard. At least, she hoped so. How could he not? It was a pretty big gamble she was taking, but the prize was Dean. She would take that gamble all day long.

"I'll see you guys back here in a few minutes," Gail told Sam. "Come here." She gestured, and he leaned down. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't worry, Sam. We're not losing Dean. We're not. I'm going to help you get our brother back, no matter what it takes. Whatever it takes."

And then she and the book were gone.

\- END OF BOOK 25. -


End file.
